THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Commodore  Byron  HcCandless 


THE 


LOWER    OF    IBJlBERTY 


y 


BY    JULIA    A.     M.    FURBISH. 


BOSTON: 
BENJAMIN   B.  RUSSELL,  55  CORNHILL. 

PORTLAND,  ME.:    BAILEY   AND   NOYES. 
CHICAGO,  ILL.:    S.  S.  IJOYDEX. 

1869. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 

JULIA  A.  M.   FURBISH, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


CAMBRIDOK: 
STEREOTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY  JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON. 

1'lntes  printed  by  the  New  Knprland  Lithographic  Steam  Printing  Company,  Boston. 


PS 
59^ 

HsF? 


INTKODUCTIO^. 


HAYB  thought  that  I  could  not  make  a  more 
acceptable  offering  to  gentlemen  of  the  Army 
and  Navy,  and  to  all  lovers  of  our  glorious 
flag  and  the  institutions  which  it  symbolizes  and  pro 
tects,  than  the  following  collection  from  poets  of  world 
wide  renown,  illustrated,  though  imperfectly,  by  my 
humble  pencil. 

During  the  first  year  of  the  war,  when  the  mania  for 
collecting  Union  designs  for  preservation  was  so  preva 
lent  in  the  loyal  States,  I  thought  that  I  would  paint  for 
myself,  in  water  colors,  a  volume  of  national  designs; 
knowing  that  I  could  thus,  at  my  leisure  and  as  fancy 
might  dictate,  make  a  more  original  and  artistic  collec 
tion  than  could  be  gathered  from  the  numerous  designs 
to  be  met  with  here  and  there,  and  which,  having  been 
published  at  slight  expense,  were  of  necessity  wanting 
in  beauty  of  coloring,  and  were,  in  most  cases,  imperfect 
in  drawing. 


IV  INTRODUCTION. 

I  began  the  work  in  1861,  painting  the  pictures  as 
they  were  suggested  by  the  different  emblems  that  ap 
peared  during  the  war,  and  anxiously  watching  for  every 
new  phase  of  loyalty  that  might  furnish  material  for  my 
purpose.  My  work  was  a  little  more  than  a  third  finished 
when  the  surrender  of  General  Lee  matured  the  half- 
formed  plan  I  had  made  three  years  previous  ;  namely,  to 
complete  it  for  publication  as  soon  as  peace  should  be 
restored.  I  opened  a  correspondence  with  the  authors 
whose  names  will  be  found  in  the  volume;  and  received 
from  them  the  most  generous  and  flattering  proofs  of 
their  interest  in  the  proposed  work,  in  the  form  either 
of  original  or  revised  poems,  adapted  to  my  drawings. 
Suitably  to  requite  them  all  for  the  favors  bestowed 
upon  me,  is  not  in  my  power;  yet  gratitude  to  them  and 
respect  for  myself  require  that  I  should  at  least  offer 
them  the  reasonable  service  of  sincere  and  hearty  thanks. 
And  here  let  me  express  my  deep  regret  that  several 
valuable  offerings  for  this  work  have  either  been  received 
too  late,  or  have  been  excluded  for  want  of  time  on  my 
part  to  prepare  suitable  illustrations.  I  am  most  grate 
ful  for  the  kindness  of  Senator  Sumner,  which  enables 
me  to  give  a  sketch  of  the  cane  once  belonging  to  our 
martyr-President,  recently  presented  to  him  by  Mrs. 
Lincoln,  and  bearing  the  beautiful  design  of  the  eagle 
shielding  her  nest  of  eaglets,  with  the  folds  of  the  flag, 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

from  the  approach  of  a  serpent.  Also  would  I  acknowl 
edge  my  indebtedness  to  others,  whose  designs  in  differ 
ent  forms  have  aided  me  so  materially  in  the  illustration 
of  this  volume. 

It  has  been  suggested,  that  it  would  be  well  to  have 
in  the  collection  one  representation,  at  least,  of  our  ban 
ner,  "  all  tattered  and  torn;  "  but,  on  reflection,  I  shrank 
from  the  thought  of  thus  helping  to  co'mmemorate  the 
fact  that  it  had  been  insulted  by  those  who  had  solemnly 
sworn  to  keep  it  flying  in  the  face  of  all  foes  without  and 
foes  within.  I  chose  rather  to  regard  it  as  a  thing  of 
divine  life,  which,  though  trampled  on  for  a  while,  will, 
from  its  inherent  self-restoring  power,  rise  again,  and,  in 
company  with  him  from  whose  teachings  it  sprang  and 
blossomed  into  the  Flower  of  Liberty,  will,  to  the  end 
of  time  and  throughout  the  world,  keep  pace  with  the 
progress  of  Christianity  and  equal  rights.  After  four 
years  of  as  heroic  bravery  in  deadly  combat  as  was  ever 
recorded  of  the  embattled  hosts  of  Alexander,  Cassar, 
ISTapoleon,  or  Wellington,  it  now  shakes  out  its  trium 
phant  folds  over  all  the  late  rebellious  States  of  the 
Union.  It  waves,  alas !  over  rivers  and  seas,  over  moun 
tains  and  plains,  crimsoned  with  the  blood  of  many 
thousands  of  gallant  and  noble  young  men,  — 

"Whose  souls,  like  setting  suns, 
Have  left  their  radiance  flung  on  sea  and  shore." 


IV  INTRODUCTION. 

I  began  the  work  in  1861,  painting  the  pictures  as 
they  were  suggested  by  the  different  emblems  that  ap 
peared  during  the  war,  and  anxiously  watching  for  every 
new  phase  of  loyalty  that  might  furnish  material  for  my 
purpose.  My  work  was  a  little  more  than  a  third  finished 
when  the  surrender  of  General  Lee  matured  the  half- 
formed  plan  I  had  made  three  years  previous;  namely,  to 
complete  it  for  publication  as  soon  as  peace  should  be 
restored.  I  opened  a  correspondence  with  the  authors 
whose  names  will  be  found  in  the  volume;  and  received 
from  them  the  most  generous  and  flattering  proofs  of 
their  interest  in  the  proposed  work,  in  the  form  either 
of  original  or  revised  poems,  adapted  to  my  drawings. 
Suitably  to  requite  them  all  for  the  favors  bestowed 
upon  me,  is  not  in  my  power;  yet  gratitude  to  them  and 
respect  for  myself  require  that  I  should  at  least  offer 
them  the  reasonable  service  of  sincere  and  hearty  thanks. 
And  here  let  me  express  my  deep  regret  that  several 
valuable  offerings  for  this  work  have  either  been  received 
too  late,  or  have  been  excluded  for  want  of  time  on  my 
part  to  prepare  suitable  illustrations.  I  am  most  grate 
ful  for  the  kindness  of  Senator  Sumner,  which  enables 
me  to  give  a  sketch  of  the  cane  once  belonging  to  our 
martyr-President,  recently  presented  to  him  by  Mrs. 
Lincoln,  and  bearing  the  beautiful  design  of  the  eagle 
shielding  her  nest  of  eaglets,  with  the  folds  of  the  flag, 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

from  the  approach  of  a  serpent.  Also  would  I  acknowl 
edge  my  indebtedness  to  others,  whose  designs  in  differ 
ent  forms  have  aided  me  so  materially  in  the  illustration 
of  this  volume. 

It  has  been  suggested,  that  it  would  be  well  to  have 
in  the  collection  one  representation,  at  least,  of  our  ban 
ner,  "  all  tattered  and  torn;  "  but,  on  reflection,  I  shrank 
from  the  thought  of  thus  helping  to  commemorate  the 
fact  that  it  had  been  insulted  by  those  who  had  solemnly 
sworn  to  keep  it  flying  in  the  face  of  all  foes  without  and 
foes  within.  I  chose  rather  to  regard  it  as  a  thing  of 
divine  life,  which,  though  trampled  on  for  a  while,  will, 
from  its  inherent  self-restoring  power,  rise  again,  and,  in 
company  with  him  from  whose  teachings  it  sprang  and 
blossomed  into  the  Flower  of  Liberty,  will,  to  the  end 
of  time  and  throughout  the  world,  keep  pace  with  the 
progress  of  Christianity  and  equal  rights.  After  four 
years  of  as  heroic  bravery  in  deadly  combat  as  was  ever 
recorded  of  the  embattled  hosts  of  Alexander,  Ca3sar, 
Napoleon,  or  Wellington,  it  now  shakes  out  its  trium 
phant  folds  over  all  the  late  rebellious  States  of  the 
Union.  It  waves,  alas !  over  rivers  and  seas,  over  moun 
tains  and  plains,  crimsoned  with  the  blood  of  many 
thousands  of  gallant  and  noble  young  men, — 

"Whose  souls,  like  setting  suns, 
Have  left  their  radiance  flung  on  sea  and  shore." 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

But,  although  their  earthly  tabernacle  has  been  de 
stroyed,  they  still  live:  and  thank  God  that,  through 
their  instrumentality,  the  integrity  of  their  beloved 
country  has  been  maintained;  and  that  they,  as  glorified 
spirits,  can  now  "behold  the  gorgeous  ensign  of  the 
republic,  known  and  honored  throughout  the  earth, 
streaming  in  its  original  lustre,  not  a  stripe  erased  or 
polluted,  nor  a  single  star  obscured,  bearing  for  its 
motto,  spread  all  over  in  characters  of  living  light,  bla 
zing  on  all  its  ample  folds,  as  they  float  over  the  sea 
and  over  the  land,  and  in  every  wind  under  the  whole 
heavens,  the  sentiment,  dear  to  every  true  American 
heart,  — '  Liberty  and  Union,  now  and  for  ever,  one 
and  inseparable."1 

JULIA   A.   M.   FURBISH. 

PORTLAND,  ME. 


CONTENTS. 


,  PAGE. 

THE  FLOWER  OF  LIBERTY Oliver  Wendell  Holmes   ....      9 

FORT  WAGNER:  1863.— WHO  SHALL  VOTE?  1865.  George  William  Curtis    ....    11 

LAUS  DEO! John  G.  Whittier 12 

"NOT  YET" William  'Cullen  Bryant    ....    15 

ACCOMPLICES  :  VIRGINIA,  1865 Thomas  Bailey  Aklrich   ....    17 

To  THE  AMERICAN  PEOPLE Bayard  Taylor 18 

CHRISTMAS  BELLS Henry  W.  Longfellow     ....    21 

GOD  OP  PEACE Rev.  John  Pierpont 23 

KEEP  STEP  WITH  THE  Music  OF  UNION  ....  William  Ross  Wallace    ....    24 

00R  FLAG T.  W.  Parsons 27 

VOLUNTARIES Ralph  Waldo  Emerson    ....    29 

THE  SOLDIERS  OF  MEDUXNAKEAG David  Barker    .......    30 

STARS  OF  MY  COUNTRY'S  SKY L.  H.  Sigourney 33 

"LovE  ONE  ANOTHER" Harriet  McEwen  Kimball    ...    35 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  WAR J.  G.  Holland 36 

THE  EAGLE  OF  CORINTH Henry  H.  BrowneU 41 

OUR  FLAG Kate  Putnam 47 

EXODUS Mrs.  Adeline  D.  T.  Whitney  .    .    49 

THE  COLOR-BEARER J.  T.  Trowbridge 51 

FLAG  OF  THE  CONSTELLATION T.  Buchanan  Read 55 

PEACE H.  E.  Prescott 57 

THE  FLAG Julia  Ward  Howe 58 

"OuE  GUIDING  STARS" Orpheus  C.  Kerr 62 

THE  WAR-EAGLE John  Neat 64 

"  QUAKER  LOYALTY  " John  G.  Whittier 66 

THE  HERO  OF  LAKE  ERIE Henry  Theodore  Tuckerman    .    .    67 

THE  FLAG George,  H.  Baker 72 

[vii] 


viii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE  SHIP  OF  STATE Henry  W.  Longfellow    ....  74 

NATIONAL  ANTHEM:  GOB  OF  THE  FREE  ....  William  Ross  Wallace  ....  75 

THE  FLAG Lucy  Larcom   . 77 

AFTER  ALL William  Winter 79 

THE  UNION,  —  EIGHT  OR  WRONG George  P.  Morris 81 

THE  FLAG B.  P.  Shillaber 83 

OUR  LAND  AND  ITS  MEMORIES Charles  T.  Brooks 85 

AMERICA Charles  K.  Tuckerman .,  .    .    .  89 

WOUNDED  UNTO  DEATH Charles  A.  Barry 92 

THE  OLD  BLUE  COAT Bishop  Burgess 95 

THE  EMPTY  SLEEVE David  Barker 99 

OUR  FLAG Orpheus  C.  Kerr 101 

UNION  AND  LIBERTY Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  ....  106 

OUR  COUNTRY Harriet  McEioen  Kimball .    .    .  108 

THE  OLD  FLAG  OVER-SEA Henry  Morford 110 

P^EAN  FOR  VICTORY Edward  P.  Nowell 115 

THE  FLAG /.  Rollin  M.  Squire 117 

AFTER  THE  WAR Mrs.  Ann  S.  Stephens    ....  119 

THE  GREAT  BELL  ROLAND Theodore  Tilton 121 

SPIRIT  OF  THE  UNION  SOLDIERS Miles  O'Re&ly 125 

PEACE Phxbe  Gary 127 

UNION Albert  Laighton 129 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN Mrs,  Julia  Ward  Howe     .    .    .  130 


X 


Jflotoer  of  f  thrtw. 


BY   OLIVER  WENDELL   HOLMES. 

HAT  flower  is  this  that  greets  the  morn, 
Its  hues  from  heaven  so  freshly  born  ? 
With,  burning  star  and  flaming  band 
It  kindles  all  the  sunset-land,  — 

O,  tell  us  what  its  name  may  be  ! 

Is  this  the  Flower  of  Liberty  ? 

It  is  the  banner  of  the  free, 

The  starry  Flower  of  Liberty  ! 

In  savage  Nature's  far  abode 

Its  tender  seed  our  fathers  sowed: 

The  storm-winds  rocked  its  swelling  bud, 

Its  opening  leaves  were  streaked  with  blood, 

Till,  lo,  earth's  tyrants  shook  to  see 

The  full-blown  Flower  of  Liberty  I 

Then  hail  the  banner  of  the  free, 

The  starry  Flower  of  Liberty  ! 

[9] 


10  THE  FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

Behold !  its  streaming  rays  unite  — 
One  mingling  flood  of  braided  light  — 
The  red  that  fires  the  Southern  rose 
"With  spotless  white  from  Northern  snows, 
And,  spangled  o'er  its  azure  sea, 
The  sister  stars  of  Liberty ! 
Then  hail  the  banner  of  the  free, 
The  starry  Flower  of  Liberty ! 

The  blades  of  heroes  fence  it  round; 
"Where'er  it  springs  is  holy  ground: 
From  tower  and  dome  its  glories  spread; 
It  waves  where  lonely  sentries  tread; 
It  makes  the  land  as  ocean  free, 
And  plants  an  empire  on  the  sea: 
Then  hail  the  banner  of  the  free, 
The  starry  Flower  of  Liberty ! 

Thy  sacred  leaves,  fair  Freedom's  flower, 
Shall  ever  float  on  dome  and  tower, 
To  all  their  heavenly  colors  true, 
In  blackening  frost  or  crimson  dew,  — 
And  God  love  us  as  we  love  thee, 
Thrice  holy  Flower  of  Liberty  I 
Then  hail  the  banner  of  the  free, 
The  starry  Flower  of  Liberty  ! 


THE   FLOWER    OF  LIBERTY.  ll 


Jf0rt  matter:  18S3.  — »o  stall  ®oh?  18S5. 

>-^  sW  (J  ij 


BY   GEORGE   WILLIAM   CURTIS. 


LIVING  cloud  of  mingled  hue 
Across  the  sand  impetuous  came, 

Into  a  fiery  whirlwind  grew, 

And  dashed  against  the  fort  in  flame. 


One  purpose  in  each  steady  heart; 

One  light  in  every  solemn  eye: 
"  Brothers,  alive  we  do  not  part; 

We  die  together,  if  we  die." 

They  fought  together,  black  and  white; 

They  fell  together,  true  and  brave; 
They  died  together  in  the  fight; 

They  rest  together  in  one  grave. 

One  blood,  one  faith,  one  hope,  they  shared; 

One  right  with  us  their  brethren  share : 
To  die  for  us  those  heroes  dared; 

To  wrong  their  brothers  do  we  dare? 


12  THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 


BY    JOHN    G.    WHITTIER. 

On  liearing  the  bells  ring  for  the  Constitutional  Amendment  abolishing  Slavery  in  the 

United  States. 

T  is  clone  ! 

Clang  of  bell  and  roar  of  gun 
Send  the  tidings  up  and  down. 
How  the  belfries  rock  and  reel ! 
How  the  great  guns,  peal  on  peal, 
Fling  the  joy  from  town  to  town  ! 

Eing,  O  bells! 

Every  stroke  exulting  tells 
Of  the  burial-hour  of  crime. 

Loud  and  long,  that  all  may  hear, 

King  for  every  listening  ear 
Of  Eternity  and  Time  ! 

Let  us  kneel ! 

God's  own  voice  is  in  that  peal, 
And  this  spot  is  holy  ground. 

Lord,  forgive  us!     What  are  we, 

That  our  eyes  this  glory  see, 
That  our  ears  have  heard  the  sound  ! 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  13 

For  the  Lord 

On  the  whirlwind  is  abroad; 
In  the  earthquake  he  has  spoken: 

He  has  smitten  with  his  thunder 

The  iron  walls  asunder, 
And  the  gates  of  brass  are  broken! 

Loud  and  long 

Lift  the  old  exulting  song; 
Sing  with  Miriam  by  the  sea: 

He  hath  cast  the  mighty  down; 

Horse  and  rider  sink  and  drown; 
He  hath  triumphed  gloriously! 

Did  we  dare, 

In  our  agony  of  prayer, 
Ask  for  more  than  he  has  done? 

When  was  ever  his  right  hand, 

Over  any  time  or  land, 
Stretched  as  now  beneath  the  sun? 

How  they  pale, 
Ancient  myth  and  song  and  tale, 

In  this  wonder  of  our  days, 
"When  the  cruel  rod  of  war 
Blossoms  white  with  righteous  law, 

And  the  wrath  of  man  is  praise! 


14  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Blotted  out! 
All  within,  and  all  about, 

Shall  a  fresher  life  begin ; 
Freer  breathe  the  universe 
As  it  rolls  its  heavy  curse 

On  the  dead  and  buried  sin  ! 

It  is  done! 
In  the  circuit  of  the  sun 

Shall  the  sound  thereof  go  forth. 
It  shall  bid  the  sad  rejoice, 
It  shall  give  the  dumb  a  voice, 

It  shall  belt  with  joy  the  earth! 

Ring  and  swing 
Bells  of  joy !  on  morning's  wing 

Send  the  song  of  praise  abroad; 
With  a  sound  of  broken  chains, 
Tell  the  nations  that  He  reigns 

"Who  alone  is  Lord  and  God  ! 


THE   FLOWEK    OF   LIBERTY.  15 


Cot  »«t." 


BY  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 


COUNTRY,  marvel  of  the  earth  ! 

O  realm  to  sudden  greatness  grown  ! 
The  age  that  gloried  in  thy  birth, 

Shall  it  behold  thee  overthrown  ? 
Shall  traitors  lay  that  greatness  low  ? 
:  land  of  hope  and  blessing,  no  ! 


And  we,  who  wear  thy  glorious  name, 
Shall  we,  like  cravens,  stand  apart, 

When  those  whom  thou  hast  trusted  aim 
The  death-blow  at  thy  generous  heart? 

Forth  goes  the  battle-cry,  and  lo  ! 

Hosts  rise  in  harness,  shouting  no  ! 

And  they  who  founded  in  our  land 
The  power  that  rules  from  sea  to  sea, 

Bled  they  in  vain,  or  vainly  planned 
To  leave  their  country  great  and  free? 

Their  sleeping  ashes,  from  below, 

Send  up  the  thrilling  murmur,  no  I 


THE   FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 

Knit  they  the  gentle  ties  which  long 
These  sister  States  were  proud  to  wear, 

And  forged  the  kindly  links  so  strong, 
For  idle  hands  in  sport  to  tear,  — 

For  scornful  hands  aside  to  throw? 

No:  by  our  fathers'  memory,  no  ! 

Our  humming  marts,  our  iron  ways, 

Our  wind-tossed  woods  on  mountain  crest; 

The  hoarse  Atlantic,  with  his  lays, 
The  calm  broad  ocean  of  the  West, 

And  Mississippi's  torrent  flow, 

And  loud  Niagara,  answer,  no  ! 

Not  yet  the  hour  is  nigh,  when  they 
Who  deep  in  Eld's  dim  twilight  sit, 

Earth's  ancient  kings,  shall  rise  and  say, 
w  Proud  country,  welcome  to  the  pit : 

So  soon  art  thou,  like  us,  brought  low?  " 

No :  sullen  groups  of  shadows,  no  ! 

» 

For  now,  behold  the  arm  that  gave 

The  victory  in  our  fathers'  day, 
Strong  as  of  old  to  guard  and  save,  — 

That  mighty  arm  which  none  can  stay, 
On  clouds  above  and  fields  below, 
Writes  in  men's  sight,  the  answer,  no  ! 


• 


THE    FLO  WEE    OF   LIBERTY.  17 


kes  :  Uirghria,  1805. 


BY    THOMAS    BAILEY    ALDIUCH. 


HE  soft  new  grass  is  creeping  o'er  the  graves 
By  the  Potomac;  and  the  crisp  ground-flower 
Lifts  its  blue  cup  to  catch  the  passing  shower; 
The  pine-cone  ripens,  and  the  long  moss  waves 
Its  tangled  gonfalons  above  our  braves. 

Hark,  what  a  burst  of  music  from  yon  bower  !  — 
The  Southern  nightingale  that,  hour  by  hour, 
In  its  melodious  summer  madness  raves. 
Ah  !  with  what  delicate  touches  of  her  hand, 

With  what  sweet  voices,  Nature  seeks  to  screen 
The  awful  Crime  of  this  distracted  land,  — 

Sets  her  birds  singing,  while  she  spreads  her  green 
Mantle  of  velvet  where  the  Murdered  lie, 
As  if  to  hide  the  horror  from  God's  eye  ! 


18 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 


%  Jimmcatt 


BY   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 


HAT  late,  in  half-despair,  I  said, 
"  The  Nation's  ancient  life  is  dead ; 
Her  arm  is  weak,  her  blood  is  cold; 
She  hugs  the  peace  that  gives  her  gold,  — 
The  shameful  peace,  that  sees  expire 
Each  beacon-light  of  patriot-fire, 
And  makes  her  court  a  traitor's  den : " 
Forgive  me  this,  my  countrymen  ! 

Oh !  in  your  long  forbearance  grand, 
Slow  to  suspect  the  treason  planned, 
Enduring  wrong,  yet  hoping  good, 
For  sake  of  olden  brotherhood ; 
How  grander,  how  sublimer  far 
At  the  roused  eagle's  call  ye  are, 
Leaping  from  slumber  to  the  fight 
For  Freedom  and  for  Chartered  Right ! 


THE   FLOWER   OP   LIBERTY.  19 

Throughout  the  land  there  goes  a  cry; 
A  sudden  splendor  fills  the  sky; 
From  every  hill  the  banners  burst, 
Like  buds  by  April  breezes  iiurst: 
In  every  hamlet,  home,  and  mart, 
The  fire-beat  of  a  single  heart 
Keeps  time  to  strains  whose  pulses  mix 
Our  blood  with  that  of  Seventy-Six  ! 

The  shot  whereby  the  old  flag  fell 
From  Sumter's  battered  citadel 
Struck  down  the  lines  of  party  creed, 
And  made  ye  one  in  soul  and  deed,  — 
One  mighty  People,  stern  and  strong, 
To  crush  the  consummated  wrong; 
Indignant  with  the  wrath  whose  rod 
Smites  as  the  awful  sword  of  God  ! 

The  cup  is  full !     They  thought  ye  blind ; 
The  props  of  state  they  undermined ; 
Abused  your  trust,  your  strength  defied, 
And  stained  the  Nation's  name  of  pride. 
Now  lift  to  heaven  your  loyal  brows, 
Swear  once  again  your  fathers'  vows, 
And  cut  through  traitor  hearts  a  track 
To  nobler  fame  and  freedom  back  ! 


20  THE    FLOWEK   OF   LIBERTY. 

Draw  forth  your  million  blades  as  one; 
Complete  the  battle  then  begun ! 
God  fights  -with  ye,  and  overhead 
Floats  the  dear  banner  of  your  dead : 
They,  and  the  glories  of  the  Past, 
The  Future  dawning  dim  and  vast, 
And  all  the  holiest  hopes  of  man, 
Are  beaming  triumph  in  your  van  ! 

Slow  to  resolve,  be  swift  to  do ! 
Teach  ye  the  False  how  fight  the  True  ! 
How  bucklered  Perfidy  shall  feel 
In  her  black  heart  the  Patriot's  steel ; 
How  sure  the  bolt  that  Justice  wings; 
How  weak  the  arm  a  traitor  brings ; 
How  mighty  they  who  steadfast  stand 
For  Freedom's  Flag  and  Freedom's  Land  ! 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  21 


Christmas 

BY      HENRY      W.       LONGFELLOW. 

HEAKD  the  bells  on  Christmas  Day 
Their  old  familiar  carols  play, 
And  wild  and  sweet 
The  words  repeat 
Of  peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men! 

J  thought  how,  as  the  day  had  come, 
The  belfries  of  all  Christendom 

Had  rolled  along 

The  unbroken  song 
Of  peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men 

Till,  ringing,  singing  on  its  way, 
The  world  revolved  from  night  to  day 

A  voice,  a  chime, 

A  chant  sublime 
Of  peace  on  earth,  good- will  to  men  ! 

Then  from  each  black,  accursed  mouth, 
The  cannon  thundered  in  the  South, 

And  with  the  sound 

The  carols  drowned 
Of  peace  on  earth,  good- will  to  men  ! 


22  THE   FLOWER    OP   LIBERTY. 

It  was  as  if  an  earthquake  rent 
The  hearthstones  of  a  continent, 

And  made  forlorn 

The  households  born 
Of  peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men  ! 

And  in  despair  I  bowed  my  head: 
"  There  is  no  peace  on  earth,"  I  said; 

"  For  hate  is  strong, 

And  mocks  the  song 
Of  peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men ! " 

4- 

Then  pealed  the  bells  more  loud  and  deep 
"  God  is  not  dead;  nor  doth  he  sleep ! 

The  Wrong  shall  fail, 

The  Bight  prevail, 
With  peace  on  earth,  good- will  to  men ! " 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  23 


of 


BY   THE   REV.    JOHN   PIEKPOXT. 


OD  of  Peace!  whose  spirit  fills 
All  the  echoes  of  our  hills, 
All  the  murmurs  of  our  rills, 
Now  the  storm  is  o'er  :  — 
Oh,  let  freemen  be  our  sons; 
And  let  future  Washingtons 
Rise  to  lead  their  valiant  ones, 
Till  there's  war  no  more  ! 

By  the  patriot's-  hallowed  rest, 
By  the  warrior's  gory  breast, 
Never  let  our  graves  be  pressed 

By  a  despot's  throne: 
By  the  Pilgrim's  toils  and  cares, 
By  their  battles  and  their  prayers, 
By  their  ashes,  let  our  heirs 
.  Bow  to  thee  alone. 


24  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBEETY. 


Step  toiilj  %  Slwsk  of  Union 


BY  WILLIAM   ROSS   WALLACE. 

EEP  step  with  the  music  of  Union! 

The  music  our  ancestors  sung 
"When  States,  like  a  jubilant  chorus, 

To  beautiful  sisterhood  sprung. 
Oh!  thus  shall  their  great  Constitution, 

That  guards  all  the  homes  of  the  land, 
A  mountain  of  freedom  and  justice 

For  millions  eternally  stand. 
North  and  South,  East  and  West,  all  unfurling 

ONE  banner  alone  o'er  the  sod; 
ONE  voice  from  America  swelling 
In  worship  of  Liberty's  God. 

Keep  step  with  the  music  of  Union ! 

'Tis  thus  we  shall  nourish  the  light 
Our  fathers  lit  for  the  chained  nations 

That  darkle  in  Tyranny's  night. 


THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.  25 

The  blood  of  the  whole  world  is  with  us, 

O'er  ocean  by  oligarchs  hurled, 
And  they  who  would  dare  to  attack  us 

Shall  sink  with  the  wrath  of  a  world. 
North  and  South,  &c. 

"  Keep  step  with  the  music  of  Union  ! " 

Our  soldiers  and  sailor-boys  shout, 
"While  from  their  invincible  cannon 

The  thunders  roll  choruses  out,  — 
"  Down,  down  with  all  traitors  polluting 

The  world  Freedom's  God  gave  the  Free  ! 
The  Flag  of  GRANT,  FARRAGUT,  ever 

Shall  rule  on  the  shore  and  the  sea. 
North  and  South,  &c." 

"  Keep  step  with  the  music  of  Union ! " 

Still  LINCOLN,  the  glorified,  cries; 
The  flames  of  the  patriot  flashing, 

Like  lightning  of  heaven,  from  his  eyes; 
Red  wrath  on  all  copperhead  demons 

Who  dare  trail  their  .blasphemous  slime 
On  Loyalty's  thrice-sacred  flowers, 

That  WASHINGTON  sowed  in  our  clime ! 
North  and  South,  &c. 


26  THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Keep  step  with  the  music  of  Union  ! 

All  traitors  shall  sink  at  the  sound; 
But  patriots  march  on  to  Heaven, 

With  hallowed  harmony  crowned: 
Then  cheer  for  the  Past  with  its  glory, 

For  the  resolute  Present  hurrah, 
And  shout  for  the  starry-browed  Future, 

With  Virtue  and  Freedom  and  Law  ! 
North  and  South,  East  and  West,  all  unfurling 

ONE  banner  alone  o'er  the  sod; 
ONE  voice  from  America  swelling 
•  In  worship  of  Liberty's  God  ! 


THE    FLOWER    OP    LIBERTY.  27 


BY   T.    W.    PARSONS. 

"  Liberia  va  cercando,  che  e"  si  cara !" 

DAXTE. 
It  waves  for  Liberty,  that  is  so  dear ! 

TILL  proudest  symbol  on  the  seas, 

Young  banner  of  my  native  land  ! 
The  time  is  near  when  every  breeze 
By  which  thy  starry  folds  are  fanned 


Shall  bring  the  name  of  Freedom  clear, 
More  clear  than  ever  heard  before. 

To  each  expecting  bondman's  ear, 
On  every  tyrant-trodden  shore. 

Beyond  the  fires  of  Hecla,  thou 

Shalt  burn  with  no  uncertain  gleam, 

And  crowds  of  worshippers  shall  bow 
To  thee  by  many  an  orient  stream. 


28  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Dull  Egypt,  startled  in  her  fen, 

Shall  hail  thee  fluttering  in  the  Nile ! 

And  fearless  tribes  of  painted  men 
Salute  thee  from  their  savage  isle. 

Wherever  other  flags  may  dare 
To  carry  new  distress  and  wrong, 

Thy  radiant  heraldry  shall  bear 
A  token  earth  has  looked  for  long. 

The  hues  of  heaven's  prophetic  bow 

Less  beauteous  then  shall  seem  than  thine; 

more  of  peace  and  hope  bestow 
Than  thy  serene,  fulfilling  sign. 


THE   FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.  29 


Itolmtfams, 


BY   RALPH   WALDO   EMERSON. 


KEEDOM,  all  winged,  expands, 

Nor  perches  in  a  narrow  place; 
Her  broad  van  seeks  implanted  lands; 
She  loves  a  poor  and  virtuous  race. 
Clinging  to  a  colder  zone, 
Whose  dark  sky  sheds  the  snowflake  down, 
The  snowflake  is  her  banner's  star, 
Her  stripes  the  boreal  streamers  are. 
Freedom  loves  the  Northman  well. 


30  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 


S0Mors  at 


BY   DAVID    BARKER. 


OME  on  with  me  now :  let  us  travel  on, 

TSot  far,  —  not  many  a  league,  — 
From  the  spot  where  the  old  and  the  bold  St.  John 

Locks  hands  with  Meduxnakeag. 


As  a  pay  or  a  fee  for  this  stroll  with  me, 

I  will  tell  you  a  tale  to-day, 
Of  the  wife,  the  widow,  the  mother,  —  all  three,  — 

And  the  soldiers,  Robert  Gray. 

It  was  here,  very  near  where  we  stroll  to-day, 
Where  the  grim  old  barrack  *  stands, 

That  a  girl  in  the  pride  of  her  youth,  they  say, 
With  a  Sergeant  Gray  locked  hands. 

But  Death  stole  into  those  barrack  walls, 
Which  stood  near  the  river's  banks, 

And  entered  the  name  of  that  Sergeant  Gray 
On  the  list  of  his  spectre  ranks. 

*  At  Houlton,  Maine. 


-V 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  31 

But  the  years  rolled  by  at  Meduxnakeag, 

When  quick  came  a  country's  call 
For  the  name  of  her  own,  of  her  manly  boy, 

Through  a  rent  in  that  barrack  wall. 

She  bade  him  go  forth  from  Meduxnakeag, 

To  his  God  and  his  country  true; 
She  bade  him  go  forth,  this  young  Captain  Gray, 

Clad  out  in  his  Union  blue. 

He  went:  but  he  wandered  not  back  again 

To  the  roof  near  the  river's  banks ; 
He  went,  like  his  father,  old  Sergeant  Gray, 

To  fill  up  Death's  spectre  ranks. 

From  the  charge  on  that  field,*  that  was  steeping  in 

gore, 

He  went  where  the  brave  spirits  dwell, 
With  "No  matter  for  me!"  and  "PusH  ON,  MY  BRAVE 

BOYS  ! " 
Kinging  out  o'er  the  shot  and  the  shell. 

What  is  that,  crouching  there  in  the  barrack's  nook, 

Bowed  down  by  the  hand  of  dismay? 
There's  a  trace  in  her  face  of  the  laughing  girl, — 

'Tis  the  mother  of  Robert  Gray. 

*  Fort  Oilman,  Sept.  28,  1864. 


32  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERT F. 

Let  us  leave  the  weird  walls  at  Meduxnakeag : 

I'm  too  old  and  ashamed  to  cry, 
And  I  feel  that  the  tears  are  rushing  fast 

For  the  crowsfeet  round  my  eye. 

But,  my  friends,  if  you  worship  a  God  in  this  life, 
And  you  ever  kneel  down  to  pray, 

Remember  the  mother,  the  widow,  the  wife, 
Of  the  soldiers,  Robert  Gray. 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  33  . 


Stars  of  mn  Ccumtrn's  Shu. 

>«  **o  .     *o 

BY  L.    H.    SIGOURNEY. 

RE  ye  all  there  ?  are  ye  all  there, 

Stars  of  my  country's  sky  ? 
Are  ye  all  there  ?  are  2/e  aW  there, 
In  your  shining  homes  on  high  ? 
"  Count  us !  count  us ! "  was  their  answer, 

As  they  darted  on  my  view, 
In  glorious  perihelion, 
Amid  their  field  of  blue. 

I  cannot  count  ye  rightly; 

There's  a  cloud  with  sable  rim: 
I  cannot  make  your  number  out, 

For  my  eyes  with  tears  are  dim. 
O  bright  and  blessed  angel ! 

On  white  wing  floating  by, 
Help  me  to  count,  and  not  to  miss 

One  star  in  my  country's  sky. 


,  34  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Then  the  angel  touched  mine  eyelids, 

And  touched  the  frowning  cloud; 
And  its  sable  rim  departed, 

And  it  fled  with  murky  shroud. 
There  was  no  missing  Pleiad 

'Mid  all  that  sister  race : 
The  Southern  Cross  gleamed  radiant  forth, 

And  the  Pole-star  kept  its  place. 

Then  I  knew  it  was  the  angel 

Who  woke  the  hymning  strain 
That,  at  our  dear  Redeemer's  birth, 

Pealed  out  o'er  Bethlehem's  plain; 
And  still  its  heavenly  key-tone 

My  listening  country  held, 
For  all  her  constellated  stars 

The  diapason  swelled. 


THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.  35 


BY      HARRIET      M  °  E  W  E  1ST      K  I  M  B  A  I,  L. 


E-UMTED,  scourged  yet  blest, 

Oh,  let  contention  cease  ! 
One  your  banner,  one  your  crest, 
Brothers,  be  at  peace  ! 


Sheathe  the  sword,  rebellious  South ! 

O  North,  bind  up  the  wound  ! 
Dead  the  thing  that  cursed  ye  both; 

Let  good-will  abound ! 

Freedom,  queen  by  right  divine, 

Her  reign  indeed  begun! 
Six  and  thirty  stars  shall  shine 

In  her  crown  as  one! 


36  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 


tart  af        Mar. 


BY   J.    G.    HOLLAND. 


EACE  in  the  clover-scented  air, 

And  stars  within  the  dome; 
And  underneath,  in  dim  repose, 
A  plain  New-England  home. 
"Within,  a  murmur  of  low  tones, 

And  sighs  from  hearts  oppressed, 
Merging  in  prayer  at  last,  that  brings 
The  balm  of  silent  rest. 


I've  closed  a  hard  day's  work,  Marty ; 

The  evening  chores  are  done; 
And  you  are  weary  with  the  house 

And  with  the  little  one. 
But  he  is  sleeping  sweetly  now, 

With  all  our  pretty  brood: 
So  come,  and  sit  upon  my  knee, 

And  it  will  do  me  good. 


mmrn 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  37 

0  Marty !  I  must  tell  you  all 
The  trouble  in  my  heart; 

And  you  must  do  the  best  you  can 

To  take  and  bear  your  part. 
You've  seen  the  shadow  on  my  face, 

You've  felt  it  day  and  night; 
For  it  has  filled  our  little  home, 

And  banished  all  its  light. 

1  did  not  mean  it  should  be  so; 
And  yet  I  might  have  known 

That  hearts  that  live  as.  close  as  ours 

Can  never  keep  their  own. 
But  we  are  fallen  on  evil  times; 

And,  do  whate'er  I  may, 
My  heart  grows  sad  about  the  war, 

And  sadder  every  day. 

I  think  about  it  when  I  work, 

And  when  I  try  to  rest; 
And  never  more  than  when  your  head 

Is  pillowed  on  my  breast. 
For  then  I  see  the  camp-fires  blaze, 

And  sleeping  men  around, 
"Who  turn  their  faces  toward  their  homes, 

And  dream  upon  the  ground. 


38  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

I  think  about  the  dear  brave  boys, 

My  mates  in  other  years, 
"Who  pine  for  home  and  those  they  love, 

Till  I  am  choked  with  tears. 
With  shouts  and  cheers  they  marched  away 

On  glory's  shining  track; 
But  ah,  how  long,  how  long  they  stay! 

How  few  of  them  come  back ! 

One  sleeps  beside  the  Tennessee, 

And  one  beside  the  James; 
And  one  fought  on  a  gallant  ship, 

And  perished  in  its  flames. 
And  some,  struck  down  by  fell  disease, 

Are  breathing  out  their  life ; 
And  others,  maimed  by  cruel  wounds, 

Have  left  the  deadly  strife. 

Ah,  Marty,  Marty !  only  think 

Of  all  the  boys  have  done 
And  suffered  in  this  weary  war,  — 

Brave  heroes  every  one. 
Oh!  often,  often  in  the  night, 

I  hear  their  voices  call,  — 
Come  on,  and  help  us  !    Is  it  right 

That  we  should  hear  it  all? 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  39 

And  when  I  kneel,  and  try  to  pray, 

My  thoughts  are  never  free, 
But  cling  to  those  who  toil  and  fight 

And  die  for  you  and  me; 
And,  when  I  pray  for  victory, 

It  seems  almost  a  sin 
To  fold  my  hands,  and  ask  for  what 

I  will  not  help  to  win. 

Oh!  do  not  cling  to  me  and  cry; 

For  it  will  break  my  heart : 
I'm  sure  you'd  rather  have  me  die 

Than  not  to  bear  my  part. 
You  think  that  some  should  stay  at  home 

To  care  for  those  away; 
But  still  I'm  helpless  to  decide 

If  I  should  go  or  stay. 

For,  Marty,  all  the  soldiers  love, 

And  all  are  loved  again; 
And  I  am  loved,  and  love  perhaps 

]STo  more  than  other  men. 
I  cannot  tell  —  I  do  not  know  — 

Which  way  my  duty  lies, 
Or  where  the  Lord  would  have  me  build 

My  fire  of  sacrifice. 


40  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

I  feel  —  I  know  —  I  am  not  mean ; 

And,  though  I  seem  to  boast, 
I'm  sure  that  I  would  give  my  life 

To  those  who  need  it  most. 
Perhaps  the  Spirit  will  reveal 

That  which  is  fair  and  right: 
So,  Marty,  let  us  humbly  kneel 

And  pray  to  Heaven  for  light. 


Peace  in  the  clover-scented  air, 

And  stars  within  the  dome; 
And  underneath,  in  dim  repose, 

A  plain  New-England  home. 
Within,  a  widow  in  her  weeds, 

From  whom  all  joy  is  flown, 
Who  kneels  among  her  sleeping  babes, 

And  weeps  and  prays  alone. 


THE    FLOWER    OP   LIBERTY.  41 


tfagte  of 


BY    HENRY   H.    BROWNELL. 


ID  you  hear  of  the  fight  at  Corinth, 

How  we  whipped  out  Price  and  Van  Dorn? 
(Ah  !  that  day  we  earned  our  rations  : 


Our  cause  was  God's  and  the  Nation's, 
Or  we'd  have  come  out  forlorn!) 

A  long1  and  a  terrible  day! 

And  at  last,  when  night  grew  gray, 

By  the  hundred  there  they  lay 

(Heavy  sleepers,  you'd  say), 
That  wouldn't  wake  on  the  morn. 


*  "  The  finest  thing  I  ever  saw  was  a  live  American  eagle,  carried  by  the  8th 
Wisconsin  Regiment,  in  the  place  of  a  flag.  It  would  fly  off  over  the  enemy 
during  the  hottest  of  the  fight ;  then  would  return,  and  seat  himself  upon  his 
pole,  clap  his  pinions,  shake  his  head,  and  start  again.  Many  and  hearty  were 
the  cheers  that  arose  from  our  lines  as  the  old  fellow  would  sail  around,  first  to 
the  right,  then  to  the  left,  and  always  return  to  his  post,  regardless  of  the  storm 
of  leaden  hail  that  was  around  him.  Something  seemed  to  tell  us  that  that 
battle  was  to  result  in  our  favor :  and,  when  the  order  was  given  to  charge, 
every  man  went  at  them  with  fixed  bayonets ;  and  the  enemy  scattered  in  all 
directions,  leaving  us  in  possession  of  the  battle-field."  —  Letter  from  an  Illinois 
Volunteer. 

6 


42  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 

Our  staff  was  bare  of  a  flag : 
We  didn't  carry  a  rag 

In  those  brave  marching  days; 
Ah,  no !  but  a  finer  thing, 
With  never  a  cord  or  string,  — 
An  Eagle,  of  ruffled  wing, 

And  an  eye  of  awful  gaze ! 

The  grape  —  it  rattled  like  hail ; 

The  minies  were  dropping  like  rain, 
The  first  of  a  thunder-shower; 

The  wads  were  blowing  like  chaff, 
(There  was  pounding,  like  floor  and  flail, 

All  the  front  of  our  line!) 
So  we  stood  it,  hour  after  hour; 

But  our  eagle  —  he  felt  fine ! 

'Twould  have  made  you  cheer  and  laugh, 
To  see,  through  that  iron  gale, 
How  the  old  Fellow'd  swoop  and  sail 
Above  the  racket  and  roar: 
To  right  and  to  left  he'd  soar; 
But  ever  came  back,  without  fail, 

And  perched  on  his  standard  staff. 

All  that  day,  I  tell  you  true, 

They  had  pressed  us,  steady  and  fair, 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  43 

Till  we  fought  in  street  and  square 
(The  affair,  you  might  think,  looked  blue) ; 

But  we  knew  we  had  them  there! 
Our  works  and  batteries  were  few,  — 
Every  gun,  they'd  have  sworn,  they  knew; 
But,  you  see,  there  was  one  or  two 

We  had  fixed  for  them,  unaware. 

They  reckon  they've  got  us  now! 

For  the  next  half  hour  'twill  be  warm. 
Aye,  aye ;  look  yonder !  —  I  vow, 
If  they  weren't  Secesh,  how  I'd  love  them ! 

Only  see  how  grandly  they  form 
(Our  eagle  whirling  above  them) 

To  take  Robinett  by  storm ! 
They're  timing!  — it  can't  be  long  — 
Now  for  the  nub  of  the  fight ! 

(You  may  guess  that  we  held  our  breath.) 
By  the  Lord !  'tis  a  splendid  sight,  — 
A  column  two  thousand  strong 

Marching  square  to  the  death! 

On  they  came  in  solid  column;  ' 

For  once,  no  whooping  nor  yell 
(Ah  !  I  dare  say  they  felt  solemn) . 

Front  and  flank,  grape  and  shell. 


44  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 

Our  batteries  pounded  away ! 
And  the  minies  hummed  to  remind  'em 

They  had  started  on  no  child's  play ! 
Steady  they  kept  a-going, 
But  a  grim  wake  settled  behind  'em : 
From  the  edge  of  the  abattis 

(Where  our  dead  and  dying  lay 
Under  fence  and  fallen  tree) 

Up  to  Robinett,  all  the  way 
The  dreadful  swath  kept  growing! 

'Twas  butternut  flecked  with  gray. 

Now  for  it,  at  Robinett! 
Muzzle  to  muzzle  we  met 

(Not  a  breath  of  bluster  or  brag, 

Not  a  lisp  for  quarter  or  favor), 
Three  times,  there  by  Robinett! 
With  a  rush,  their  feet  they  set 
On  the  logs  of  our  parapet, 

And  waved  their  bit  of  a  flag : 

What  could  be  finer  or  braver? 
But  our  cross-fire  stunned  them  in  flank; 
They  melted,  rank  after  rank; 
(Over  them,  with  terrible  poise, 
Our  Bird  did  circle  and  wheel !) 

Their  whole  line  began  to  waver,  — 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  45 

for  the  bayonet,  boys ! 
On  them  with  the  cold  steel ! 

Ah,  well !  —  you  know  how  it  ended : 

We  did  for  them,  there  and  then; 
But  their  pluck  throughout  was  splendid. 
(As  I  said  before,  I  could  love  them!) 

They  stood,  to  the  last,  like  men: 
Only  a  handful  of  them 

Found  their  way  back  again. 
Red  as  blood,  o'er  the  town, 
The  angry  sun  went  down, 

Firing  flagstaff  and  vane. 
And  our  eagle,  —  as  for  him, 
There,  all  ruffled  and  grim, 

He  sat,  o'erlooking  the  slain! 

Next  morning  you'd  have  wondered 

How  we  had  to  drive  the  spade! 
There,  in  great  trenches  and  holes, 

(Ah,  God  rest  their  poor  souls !) 
We  piled  some  fifteen  hundred 

Where  that  last  charge  was  made ! 

Sad  enough,  I  must  say! 

mother  to  mourn  and  search, 


46  THE    FLOWEK   OF    LIBERTY. 

No  priest  to  bless  or  to  pray : 
"We  buried  them  where  they  lay, 

Without  a  rite  of  the  church; 
But  our  eagle,  all  that  day, 

Stood  solemn  and  still  on  his  perch. 
'Tis  many  a  stormy  day 
Since,  out  of  the  cold,  bleak  North, 
Our  great  War-Eagle  sailed  forth 
To  swoop  o'er  battle  and  fray. 
Many  and  many  a  day 
O'er  charge  and  storm  hath  he  wheeled, 
Foray  and  foughten  field, 

Trarnp  and  volley  and  rattle ! 
Over  crimson  trench  and  turf, 
Over  climbing  clouds  of  surf, 
Through  tempest  and  cannon-rack, 
Have  his  terrible  pinions  whirled. 
(A  thousand  fields  of  .battle! 

A  million  leagues  of  foam!) 
But  our  bird  shall  yet  come  back: 

He  shall  soar  to  his  Eyrie-Home, 
And  his  thunderous  Wings  be  furled, 
In  the  gaze  of  a  gladdened  world, 

On  the  Nation's  loftiest  Dome 


THE    FLOWEK    OF   LIBERTY.  47 


BY      KATE      PUTNAM. 


E AL  out,  O  bells !  from  jubilant  throats, 

A  sudden  song  of  mirth ! 
Lo,  where  across  our  land  it  floats, 

The  flower  of  all  the  earth! 
More  firmly  are  its  roots  inwrought 

With  Love  and  Life,  to-day, 
Than  when  the  grasp  of  Treason  sought 
To  rend  its  bloom  away. 

The  blood  of  gallant  hearts  and  true 
Has  lent  its  crimson  dve; 

«/        7 

Its  azure  is  the  splendid  blue 

Of  Hope's  unclouded  sky; 
And,  blotting  out  the  bitter  Past, 

A  People's  tears  of  pain 
Have  washed  its  whiteness  pure,  at  last, 

From  Slavery's  ancient  stain. 


48  THE   FLOWER   OP   LIBERTY. 

Look  down  from  your  eternal  height, 

Ye  spirits  tried  and  brave, 
And  crown  with  Heaven's  refulgent  light 

The  flag  ye  died  to  save ! 
Look  up,  O  living,  loyal  eyes ! 

Where,  every  steady  star 
Undimmed  within  its  native  skies, 

Your  standard  shines  afar! 

Let  reverent  silence  be  its  meed; 

Firm  heart  and  prayerful  breath: 
"What  paean  can  that  glory  need 

"Whose  power  is  proved  by  Death? 
The  grave  that  holds  our  Martyr-chief, 

The  fields  that  hide  our  slain, 
Shall  voice  a  Nation's  love  and  grief, 

Her  triumph  and  her  pain. 

Oh,  symbol-hope  of  all  the  world  ! 

The  pledge  of  Liberty! 
A  stronger  hand  than  ours  unfurled 

Thy  mighty  prophecy. 
Let  all  thy  starry  splendors  shine! 

Chime,  bells,  in  sweet  accord ! 
Earth  cannot  harm  that  holy  sign,  — 

The  banner  of  the  Lord  ! 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  49 


(fobits. 


BY   MRS.    ADELINE   D.    T.    WHITNEY. 


EAR  ye  not  how,  from  all  high  points  of  Time, — 
From  peak  to  peak,  a-down  the  mighty  chain 
That  links  the  ages,  echoing  sublime 

A  voice  almighty,  —  leaps  one  grand  refrain, 
Wakening  the  generation  with  a  shout 
And  trumpet-call  of  thunder,  —  Come  ye  out! 

Out  from  old  forms  and  dead  idolatries, 

From  fading  myths  and  superstitious  dreams, 

From  Pharisaic  rituals  and  lies, 

And  all  the  bondage  of  the  life  that  seems,  — 

Out,  on  the  pilgrim-path  of  heroes  trod 

On  earth's  wastes,  to  reach  forth  after  God ! 

The  Lord  hath  bowed  his  heaven,  and  come  down ! 

]STow,  in  this  latter  century  of  time, 
Once  more  his  tent  is  pitched  on  Sinai's  crown; 

Once  more  hi  clouds  must  Faith  to  meet  him  climb; 

4 


50  THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Once  more  his  thunder  crashes  on  our  doubt 
And  fear  and  sin,  —  My  people,  come  ye  out ! 

From  false  ambitions  and  base  luxuries, 
From  puny  aims  and  indolent  self-ends, 

From  cant  of  faith  and  shams  of  liberties, 

And  mist  of  ill  that  Truth's  day-beam  lends, — 

Out  from  all  darkness  of  the  Egypt-land, 

Into  thy  sun-blaze  on  the  desert  sand  ! 

"  Leave  ye  your  flesh-pots ;  turn  from  filthy  greed 
Of  gain,  that  doth  the  thirsting  spirit  mock,  — 

And  heaven  shall  drop  sweet  manna  for  your  need, 
And  rain  clear  rivers  from  the  unhewn  rock." 

Thus  saith  the  Lord  !  and  Moses,  meek,  unshod, 

"Within  the  cloud  stands  hearkening  to  his  God. 

Show  us  our  Aaron,  with  his  rod  in  flower; 

Our  Miriam,  with  her  timbrel-soul  in  tune ! 
And  call  some  Joshua  in  the  Spirit's  power 

To  poise  our  sun  of  strength  at  point  of  noon ! 
God  of  our  fathers  !  on  land  and  sea 
Still  keep  our  struggling  footsteps  close  to  Thee. 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBEKTY.  51 


Cjxe 


BY      J.      T.      TKOWBRIDGE. 


WAS  a  fortress  to  be  stormed: 

Boldly  right  in  view  they  formed, 
All  as  quiet  as  a  regiment  parading: 
Then  in  front  a  line  of  flame  ! 
Then  at  left  and  right  the  same  ! 
Two  platoons  received  a  furious  enfilading. 
To  their  places  still  they  filed, 
And  they  smiled  at  the  wild 
Cannonading. 

:  'Twill  be  over  in  an  hour  ! 
'Twill  not  be  much  of  a  shower  ! 
Never  mind,  my  boys,"  said  he,  "  a  little  drizzling  !  " 
Then  to  cross  that  fatal  plain, 
Through  the  whirring,  hurtling  rain 
Of  the  grape-shot,  and  the  minie-bullets'  whistling  I 
But  he  nothing  heeds  nor  shuns, 
As  he  runs,  with  the  guns 
Brightly  bristling  ! 


52  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 

Leaving  trails  of  dead  and  dying 

In  their  track,  yet  forward  flying 
Like  a  breaker  where  the  gale  of  conflict  rolled  them, 

With  a  foam  of  flashing  light 

Borne  before  them  on  their  bright 
Burnished  barrels,  —  oh,  'twas  fearful  to  behold  them ! 

While  from  ramparts  roaring  loud 

Swept  a  cloud  like  a  shroud 
To  enfold  them ! 


Oh,  his  color  was  the  first ! 

Through  the  burying  cloud  he  burst, 
With  the  standard  to  the  battle  forward  slanted ! 

Through  the  belching,  blinding  breath 

Of  the  flaming  jaws  of  Death, 
Till  his  banner  on  the  bastion  he  had  planted  ! 

By  the  screaming  shot  that  fell, 

And  the  yell  of  the  shell, 
Nothing  daunted. 

Right  against  the  bulwark  dashing, 
Over  tangled  branches  crashing, 
'Mid  the  plunging  volleys  thundering  ever  louder! 
There  he  clambers,  there  he  stands, 
With  the  ensign  in  his  hands,  — 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  53 

Oh !  was  ever  hero  handsomer  or  prouder? 
Streaked  with  battle-sweat  and  slime, 
And  sublime  in  the  grime 
Of  the  powder! 

'Twas  six  minutes,  at  the  least, 
.  Ere  the  closing  combat  ceased,  — 
Near  as  we  the  mighty  moments  then  could  measure ; 
And  we  held  our  souls  with  awe, 
Till  his  haughty  flag  we  saw 

On  the  lifting  vapors  drifting  o'er  the  embrasure,  — 
Saw  it  glimmer,  in  our  tears, 
While  our  ears  heard  the  cheers 
Rend  the  azure! 

Through  the  abattis  they  broke, 

Through  the  surging  cannon-smoke, 
And  they  drove  the  foe  before  like  frightened  cattle ! 

Oh !  but  never  wound  was  his ; 

For  in  other  wars  than  this, 
Where  the  volleys  of  Life's  conflict  roar  and  rattle, 

He  must  still,  as  he  was  wont, 

In  the  front  bear  the  brunt 
Of  the  battle. 

He  shall  guide  the  van  of  Truth! 
And  in  manhood,  as  in  youth, 


54  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Be  her  fearless,  be  her  peerless,  Color-bearer! 

With  his  high  and  bright  example, 

Like  a  banner  brave  and  ample, 
Ever  leading,  through  receding  clouds  of  Error, 

To  the  empire  of  the  Strong ; 

And  to  Wrong  he  shall  long 
Be  a  terror! 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  55 


Jfla0  0f  %  Constellation. 

BY  T.   BUCHANAN   READ. 

HE  stars  of  morn  on  our  banner  borne 

With  the  iris  of  heaven  are  blended; 
The  hand  of  our  sires  first  mingled  those  fires, 

And  by  us  they  shall  be  defended. 
Then  hail  the  true  Red,  White,  and  Blue,  — 

The  flag  of  the  Constellation! 
It  sails,  as  it  sailed  by  our  forefathers  hailed, 
O'er  battles  that  made  us  a  nation. 

What  hand  so  bold  as  strike  from  its  fold 

One  star  or  one  stripe  of  its  brightening! 
For  him  be  those  stars  each  a  fiery  Mars, 

Each  stripe  be  a  terrible  lightning: 
Then  hail  the  true  Red,  White,  and  Blue,  — 

The  flag  of  the  Constellation ! 
It  sails,  as  it  sailed  by  our  forefathers  hailed, 

O'er  battles  that  made  us  a  nation. 


56  THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Its  meteor  form  shall  ride  the  storm 

Till  the  fiercest  of  foes  surrender; 
The  storm  gone  by,  it  shall  gild  the  sky, 

A  rainbow  of  peace  and  of  splendor : 
Then  hail  the  true  Red,  White,  and  Blue,  — 

The  flag  of  the  Constellation! 
It  sails,  as  it  sailed  by  our  forefathers  hailed, 

O'er  battles  that  made  us  a  nation. 

Peace  to  the  world  is  our  motto  unfurled, 

Though  we  shun  not  the  field  that  is  gory: 
At  home  or  abroad,  fearing  none  but  our  God, 

We  will  carve  our  own  pathway  to  glory. 
Then  hail  the  true  Red,  White,  and  Blue,  — 

The  flag  of  the  Constellation ! 
It  sails,  as  its  sailed  by  our  forefathers  hailed, 

O'er  battles  that  made  us  a  nation. 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  57 


BY    H.    E.    PRESCOTT. 


H  that  the  hells,  in  all  the  silent  spires, 

Would  clash  their  clangor  on  the  sleeping  air, 
Ring  their  wild  music  out  with  throbbing  choirs, 
Ring  peace  in  everywhere  ! 


Oh  that  this  wave  of  sorrow  surging  o'er 

The  red,  red  land,  would  wash  away  its  stain, 

t 

Drown  out  the  angry  fires  from  shore  to  shore, 
And  give  us  peace  again  ! 

On  last  year's  blossoming  graves,  with  summer  calms, 

Loud  in  his  happy  tangle  hums  the  bee; 
Mature  forgets  her  hurt  and  finds  her  balms,  — 
Alas  !  and  why  not  we? 

• 

Spirit  of  God,  that  moved  upon  the  face 

Of  the  waters,  and  bade  ancient  chaos  cease, 
Shine,  shine  again  o'er  this  tumultuous  space, 
Thou  that  art  Prince  of  Peace ! 


58  THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 


.lias. 


BY  JULIA  WARD   HOWE. 


JHERE'S  a  flag  hangs  over  my  threshold,  whos* 

folds  are  more  dear  to  me 
Than  the  blood  that  thrills  in  my  bosom  its  ear  • 

nest  of  liberty; 
And  dear  are  the  stars  it  harbors  in  its  sunny  field  ol 

blue 

As  the  hope  of  a  further  heaven,  that  lights  all  our  dim 
lives  through. 

But  now,  should  my  guests  be  merry,  the  house  is  in 

holiday  guise, 
Looking  out  through  its  burnished  windows  like  a  score 

of  welcoming  eyes. 
Come  hither,  my  Brothers  who  wander,  in  saintliness  and 

in  sin; 
Come  hither,  ye  pilgrims  of  Mature !  my  heart  doth  invite 

you  in. 

My  wine  is  not  of  the  choicest,  yet  bears  it  an  honest 

brand; 
And  the  bread  that  I  bid  you  lighten,  I  break  with  no 

sparing  hand. 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  59 

But  pause,  ere  you  pass  to  taste  it:  one  act  must  accom 
plished  be,  — 
Salute  the  flag  in  its  virtue,  before  ye  sit  down  with  me. 

The  flag  of  our  stately  battles,  not  struggles  of  wrath 

and  greed; 
Its  stripes  were  a  holy  lesson,  its  spangles  a  deathless 

creed. 
'Twas  red  with  the  blood  of  freemen,  and  white  with  the 

fear  of  the  foe ; 
And  the  stars  that  fight  in  their  courses  'gainst  tyrants 

its  symbols  know. 

Come  hither,  thou  son  of  my  mother !  we  were  reared  in 

the  self-same  arms; 
Thou  hast  many  a  pleasant  gesture,  thy  mind  hath  its 

gifts  and  charms. 
But  my  heart  is  as  stern  to  question  as  my  eyes  are  of 

sorrows  full: 
Salute  the  flag  in  its  virtue,  or  pass  on  where  others  rule. 

Thou  lord  of  a  thousand  acres,  with  heaps  of  uncounted 

gold, 
The  steeds  of  thy  stall  are  haughty,  thy  lackeys  cunning 

and  bold. 


60  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

I  envy  no  jot  of  thy  splendor,  I  rail  at  thy  follies  none : 
Salute  the  flag  in  its  virtue,  or  leave  my  poor  house 
alone.  .  * 


Fair  lady  with  silken  flouncings,  high  waving  thy  stain 
less  plume, 

We  welcome  thee  to  our  banquet,  —  a  flower  of  costliest 
bloom. 

Let  an  hundred  maids  live  widowed  to  furnish  thy  bridal 
bed; 

But  pause  where  the  flag  doth  question,  and  bend  thy 
triumphant  head. 

Take  down  now  your  flaunting  banner;  for  a  scout  comes 

breathless  and  pale, 
With  the  terror  of  death  upon  him:  of  failure  is  all  his 

tale. 
"They  have  fled  while  the  flag  waved  o'er  them;  they've 

turned  to  the  foe  their  back; 
They  are  scattered,  pursued,  and  slaughtered;  the  fields 

are  all  rout  and  wrack." 

Pass  hence,  then,  the  friends  I  gathered,  a  goodly  com 
pany; 
All  ye  that  have  manhood  in  you,  go,  perish  for  Liberty. 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  61 

But  I  and  the  -Babes  God  gave  me  will  wait  with  uplifted 
hearts, 

"With  the  firm  smile  ready  to  kindle,  and  the  will  to  per 
form  our  parts. 

When  the  last  true  heart  lies  bloodless,  when  the  fierce 

and  false  have  won, 
I'll  press  in  turn  to  my  bosom  each  daughter  and  either 

son; 
Bid  them  loose  the  flag  from  its  bearings,  and  we'll  lie 

down  to  rest 
With  the  glory  of  home  about  us,  and  its  freedom  locked 

in  our  breast. 


62  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 


"  (®wr  <iuibht0  Stars." 

BY   ORPHEUS   C.    KERR. 

HE  planets  of  our  flag  are  set 

In  God's  eternal  blue  sublime ; 
Creation's  world-wide  starry  stripe 
Between  the  banner'd  days  of  time. 


Upon  the  sky's  divining  scroll, 
In  burning  punctuation  borne, 

They  shape  the  sentence  of  the  night 
That  prophesies  a  cloudless  morn. 

The  waters  free  their  mirrors  are; 

And  fair  with  equal  light  they  look 
Upon  the  royal  ocean's  breast, 

And  on  the  humble  mountain  brook. 

Though  each  distinctive  as  the  soul 
Of  some  new  world  not  yet  begun, 

In  bright  career  their  courses  blend 
Round  Liberty's  unchanging  sun. 


THE  FLOWER   OP   LIBERTY.  63 

Thus  ever  shine,  ye  stars,  for  all ! 

And  palsied  be  the  hand  that  harms 
Earth's  pleading  signal  to  the  skies, 

And  Heaven's  immortal  coat  of  arms. 


64  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 


BY   JOHN   NEAL. 


HERE'S  a  fierce  gray  Bird  with  a  sharpened  beak, 

With  an  angry  eye  and  a  startling  shriek, 
That  nurses  her  brood  where  the  cliff-flowers  blow, 


On  the  precipice  top,  in  perpetual  snow, 

"Where  the  fountains  are  mute  or  hi  secrecy  flow; 

That  sits  where  the  air  is  shrill  and  bleak, 

On  the  splintered  point  of  a  shivered  peak; 

Where  the  weeds  lie  close,  and  the  grass  sings  sharp 

To  a  comfortless  tune,  like  a  wintry  harp: 

Bald-headed  and  stripped,  like  a  vulture  torn 

By  wind  and  strife,  with  her  feathers  worn 

And  ruffled  and  stained;  while  scattering,  bright, 

Round  her  serpent  neck,  all  writhing  and  bare, 

Runs  a  crimson  collar  of  gleaming  hair ! 

Like  the  crest  of  a  warrior  thinned  in  the  fight, 

And  shorn  and  bristling:  —  see  her,  where 

She  sits  in  the  glow  of  the  sunbright  air ! 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  65 

"With  wing  half  poised,  and  talons  bleeding, 

And  kindling  eye,  as  if  her  prey 

Had  suddenly  been  snatched  away, 
While  she  was  tearing  it,  and  feeding. 

Above  the  dark  torrent,  above  the  bright  stream, 
The  swift  ruddy  fount,  with  the  changeable  gleam, 
Where  the  lustre  of  heaven  eternally  plays, 
The  voice  may  be  heard  of  the  Thunderous  Bird 
Calling  out  to  her  god  in  a  clear  wild  scream, 
As  he  mounts  to  his  throne  and  unfolds  in  his  beam; 
While  her  young  are  laid  out  in  his  rich  red  blaze, 
And  their  winglets  are  fledged  in  his  hottest  rays. 

O  ye  that  afar  in  the  blue  air  have  heard, 
As  out  of  the  sky,  the  approach  of  that  Bird ! 
Have  ye  seen  her,  half  famished,  and  up  and  away, 
Her  wings  in  a  blaze  with  the  shedding  of  day,  — 
Like  a  vulture  on  fire !  in  the  track  of  her  prey  ? 


66 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 


BY      JOHN      G.     WHITTIKH. 

• 

HY  ask  for  ease  where  all  is  pain? 

Shall  we  alone 

Be  left  to  add  our  gain  to  gain 
When  over  Armageddon's  plain 
The  trump  is  blown? 

The  levelled  gun,  the  battle-bran  :1, 

We  may  not  take; 
But,  calmly  loyal,  we  can  stand 
And  suffer  with  our  suffering  land 

For  conscience'  sake. 

And  we  can  tread  the  sick-bed  floors 

Where  strong  men  pine, 
And  down  the  groaning  corridors 
Pour  freely  from  our  liberal  stores 

The  oil  and  wine. 

And  small  shall  seem  all  sacrifice, 

All  pain  and  loss, 

When  God  shall  wipe  the  weeping  eyes, 
For  suffering  give  the  victor's  prize, 

The  crown  for  cross  ! 


A   i 


• :  . .  '  •..• 


THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.  67 


of 


BY   HENRY   THEODORE   TUCKERMAN. 


a  green  knoll  in  yonder  field  of  graves, 
Where  the  rank  grass  o'er  mound  and  tablet 

waves, 

A  granite  shaft  allures  the  vagrant  eye 
To  where  the  ashes  of  a  hero  lie. 
This  briny  air,  in  its  perennial  sweep^ 
Nerved  his  young  frame  to  conquer  on  the  deep: 
Around  these  shores,  a  boy,  with  sportive  ease, 
lie  trimmed  his  shallop  to  the  wayward  breeze; 
A  fearless  athlete,  in  his  summer  play, 
He  clove  the  surf  of  this  unrivalled  bay; 
Trod  the  lone  cliff  where  storm-lashed  billows  roll, 
To  see  the  rocks  their  baffled  rage  control, 
Or  watch  their  serried  ranks  majestic  pour 
A  ceaseless  tribute  on  his  native  shore. 
The  snowy  fringes  on  each  leaping  surge, 
Like  victor's  wreaths,  heroic  purpose  urge; 
In  their  wild  roar  the  deadly  charge  he  hears, 
Feels  in  their  spray  a  nation's  grateful  tears ; 


68  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

The  mellow  sunsets,  whose  emblazoned  crest 
With  purple  radiance  flushes  all  the  west, 
Like  glory's  banner,  to  his  vision  spread, 
To  guide  the  living,  consecrate  the  dead ! 

His  boyhood  thus  by  winds  and  waves  beguiled, 
Here  Nature  cradled  her  intrepid  child; 
Won  his  clear  gaze  to  scan  the  horizon  wall, 
His  heart  with  ocean's  heart  to  rise  and  fall, 
His  ear  to  drink  the  music  of  the  gale, 
His  pulse  to  leap  with  the  careering  sail, 
His  brow  the  landscape's  open  look  to  wear, 
His  eye  to  freshen  in  this  crystal  air: 
Braced  by  her  rigors,  melted  by  her  smile, 
She  reared  the  hero  of  her  peerless  isle. 

Then  went  he  forth,  —  not  like  a  knight  of  old, 
Armed  at  all  points,  with  veterans  enrolled ; 
But  in  the  strength  of  a  devoted  will, 
A  martyr's  patience,  and  a  patriot's  skill. 
No  fleet  was  his  whose  guns  and  pennons  bore 
The  tested  might  of  conquests  won  of  yore : 
The  trees  whose  shadow  played  o'er  Erie's  wave 
Were  felled  and  launched,  —  a  rampart  for  the  brave 
The  oak  that  stretched  its  leafy  branches  there, 
And  dallied  lightly  with  the  autumn  air, 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  09 

One  morn,  a  sturdy  bulwark  of  the  free, 
Floated,  the  empress  of  that  inland  sea ! 
]STo  gray  survivors  of  the  battle's  wreck 
Manned  the  rude  ports  of  her  unpolished  deck; 
Destined  to  grapple  with  a  practised  foe, 
The  will  to  fight  is  all  her  champions  know. 

Sublime  the  pause,  when,  down  the  gleaming  tide, 
The  virgin  galleys  to  the  conflict  glide: 
The  very  wind,  as  if  in  awe  or  grief, 
Scarce  wakes  a  ripple  or  disturbs  a  leaf. 
The  lighted  brand;  the  piles  of  iron  hail; 
The  boatswain's  whistle  and  the  fluttering  sail ; 
The  thick-strewn  sand  beneath  their  noiseless  tread, 
To  drink  the  gallant  blood  as  yet  unshed; 
The  long-drawn  breath ;  the  glance  of  mutual  cheer, 
Eager  with  hope,  oblivious  of  fear; 
Yalor's  stern  mood ;  affection's  pensive  sigh,  — 
Alone  declare  relentless  havoc  nigh. 
Behold  the  chieftain's  glad,  prophetic  smile,. 
As  a  new  banner  he  unrolls  the  while ; 
Hear  the  gay  shout  of  his  elated  crew, 
When  the  dear  watchword  hovers  to  their  view, 
And  Lawrence,  silent  in  the  arms  of  death, 
Bequeathes  defiance  with  his  latest  breath.* 

*  Just  before  the  action,  a  flag  with  the  motto,  "  Don't  give  up  the  ship !" 
was  hoisted. 


70  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Why  to  one  point  turns  eveiy  graceful  prow? 
"What  scares  the  eagle  from  his  lonely  bough? 

A  bugle-note  far  through  the  welkin  rings, 
From  ship  to  ship  its  airy  challenge  flings, 
Then  round  each  hull  the  murky  war-clouds  loom, 
The  lightnings  glare,  the  sullen  thunders  boom; 
Peal  follows  peal,  and,  with  each  lurid  flash, 
The  tall  masts  shiver,  and  the  bulwarks  crash ; 
The  shrouds  hang  loose,  the  decks  are  wet  with  gore, 
And  dying  shrieks  resound  along  the  shore. 
As  fall  the  bleeding  victims,  one  by  one, 
Their  messmates  rally  to  the  smoking  gun; 
As  the  maimed  forms  are  sadly  borne  away 
From  the  fierce  carnage  of  that  murderous  fray, 
A  fitful  joy  lights  up  each  drooping  eye 
To  see  the  starry  banner  floating  high, 
Or  mark  their  unharmed  leader's  dauntless  air 
(His  life  enfolded  in  his  loved  one's  prayer)  :  * 
Pity  and  high  resolve  his  bosom  rend, 
"  ^NTot  o'er  my  head  shall  that  bright  flag  descend ! " 
With  brief  monition,  from  the  hulk  he  springs, 
For  a  fresh  deck  his  rapid  transit  wings; 
Back  to  the  strife  exultant  shapes  his  way, 
Again  to  test  the  fortunes  of  the  day. 

*  Perry  said,  after  his  miraculous  escape,  that  he  owed  his  life  to  hi«  wife's 
prayers. 


THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.  71 

As  bears  the  noble  consort  slowly  down, 
Portentous  now  her  teeming  cannon  frown. 
List  to  the  volleys  that  incessant  break 
The  ancient  silence  of  that  border  lake  ! 
As  lifts  the  smoke,  what  tongue  can  fitly  tell 
The  transports  which  those  manly  bosoms  swell, 
When  Britain's  ensign  down  the  reeling  mast 
Sinks,  to  proclaim  the  desperate  struggle  past ! 
Electric  cheers  along  the  shattered  fleet, 
With  rapturous  hail  her  youthful  hero  greet. 
Meek  in  his  triumph,  as  .in  danger  calm, 
With  reverent  hand  he  takes  the  victor's  palm; 
His  wreath  of  conquest  on  Faith's  altar  lays,* 
To  his  brave  comrades  yields  the  meed  of  praise ; 
With  Mercy's  balm  allays  the  captive's  woe, 
And  wrings  oblation  from  his  vanquished  foe ! 

While  Erie's  currents  lave  her  winding  shore, 
Or  down  the  crags  a  rushing  torrent  pour, 
While  floats  Columbia's  standard  to  the  breeze, 
No  blight  shall  wither  laurels  such  as  these ! 

*  "  Tt  has  pleased  the  Almighty  to  grant  to  the  anus  of  the  United  States  a 
signal  victory,"  &c.  —  1'erry's  Despatch. 


72  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 


BY   GEORGE    H.    BOKER. 


PIRITS  of  patriots,  hail  in  heaven  again 
The  flag  for  which  ye  fought  and  died, 
Now  that  its  field,  washed  clear  of  every  stain, 
Floats  out  in  honest  pride  ! 


Free  blood  flows  through  its  scarlet  veins  once  more, 

And  brighter  shine  its  silver  bars ; 
A  deeper  blue  God's  ether  never  wore 

Amongst  the  golden  stars. 

See  how  our  earthly  constellation  gleams ! 

And  backward,  flash  for  flash,  returns 
Its  heavenly  sisters  their  immortal  beams, 

With  light  that  fires  and  burns,  — 

That  burns  because  a  moving  soul  is  there, 

A  living  force,  a  shaping  will, 
"Whose  law  the  fate-forecasting  powers  of  air 

Acknowledge  and  fulfil ! 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  73 

At  length  the  day,  by  prophets  seen  of  old, 

Flames  on  the  crimsoned  battle-blade; 
Henceforth,  O  flag!  no  mortal  bought  and  sold 

Shall  crouch  beneath  thy  shade. 

That  shame  has  vanished  in  the  darkened  past, 

With  all  the  chaotic  wrongs 
That  held  the  struggling  centuries  shackled  fast 

With  fear's  accursed  thongs. 

Therefore,  O  patriot  fathers !  in  your  eyes 

I  brandish  thus  our  banner  pure : 
•"Watch  o'er  us,  bless  us,  from  your  peaceful  skies, 

And  make  the  issue  sure! 


74-  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 


&*  S^ip  of  State. 

BY      HENRY      W.      LONGFELLOW. 

JHOU,  too,  sail  on,  O  Ship  of  State ! 

Sail  on,  O  Union!  strong  and  great; 

Humanity,  with  all  its  fears, 
With  all  the  hopes  of  future  years, 
Is  hanging  breathless  on  thy  fate  ! 
We  know  what  master  laid  thy  keel, 
What  workmen  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel, 
Who  made  each  mast  and  sail  and  rope, 
What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat, 
In  what  a  forge  and  what  a  heat 
Were  shaped  the  anchors  of  thy  hope. 
Fear  not  each  sudden  sound  and  shock: 
'Tis  of  the  wave,  and  not  the  rock ; 
'Tis  but  the  flapping  of  the  sail, 
And  not  a  rent  made  by  the  gale. 
In  spite  of  rock  and  tempest's  roar, 
In  spite  of  false  lights  on  the  shore, 
Sail  on,  nor  fear  to  breast  the  sea: 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 
Our  faith  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 
Are  all  with  thee,  —  are  all  with  thee  ! 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  75 


ftaiiorcal  §,tt%m :   fetr  of  %  Jrte. 

BY   WILLIAM   ROSS   WALLACE. 
AIR,  "  Old  Hundred." 

OD  of  the  Free !  upon  thy  breath 

Our  Flag  is  still  for  Right  unfurled, 
As  broad  and  brave  as  when  its  stars 
First  lit  the  darkness  of  the  world. 


For  Duty  still  its  folds  shall  stream, 
For  Honor  still  its  glories  burn; 

"While  Truth,  Religion,  Valor,  guard 
The  patriot's  sword  and  martyr's  urn. 

!. 

How  glorious  is  our  mission  here ! 

Heirs  of  a  virgin  world  are  we,  — 
The  chartered  lords  whose  lightnings  tame 

The  rocky  mount  and  roaring  sea. 

~No  tyrant's  impious  step  is  ours, 
!Nb  lust  of  power  on  nations  rolled : 

Our  Flag  for  friends  a  starry  sky ; 

For  traitors,  storms  in  every  fold.  * 


76  THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBEKTY. 

Oh,  thus  we'll  keep  the  Nation's  life, 
Nor  fear  the  bolts  by  despots  hurled  ! 

The  blood  of  all  the  world  is  here, 

And  they  who  strike  us,  strike  the  world. 

No  Slavery  shall  blast  our  clime; 

But  evermore,  on  wave  and  sod, 
Only  one  Sovereign's  shadow  fall,  — 

The  golden  shadow  cast  by  God. 

God  of  the  Free !  our  Nation  bless 
In  its  strong  manhood  as  its  birth, 

And  make  its  life  a  Star  of  Hope 
For  all  the  struggling  of  the  Earth. 

Then,  shout  beside  thine  Oak,  O  North ! 

O  South,  wave  answer  with  thy  Palm! 
All  in  our  Union's  heritage 

Together  sing  the  Nation's  psalm! 


THE    FLOWElt   OF    LIBERTY.  77 


Jfiag. 


BY   LUCY   LARCOM. 

ET  it  idly  droop,  or  sway 

To  the  wind's  light  will; 
Furl  its  stars,  or  float  in  day; 

Flutter,  or  be  still  ! 
It  has  held  its  colors  bright 

Through  the  war-smoke  dun  ; 
Spotless  emblem  of  the  Bight, 
Whence  success  was  won. 

Let  it  droop  in  graceful  rest 

For  a  passing  hour,  — 
Glory's  banner,  last  and  best; 

Freedom's  freshest  flower! 
Each  red  stripe  has  blazoned  forth 

Gospels  writ  in  blood; 
Every  star  has  sung  the  birth 

Of  some  deathless  good. 


78  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

Let  it  droop,  but  not  too  long ! 

On  the  eager  wind 
Bid  it  wave,  to  shame  the  wrong,  - 

To  inspire  mankind 
With  a  larger  human  love, 

With  a  truth  as  true 
As  the  heaven  that  broods  above 

Its  deep  field  of  blue. 

In  the  gathering  hosts  of  hope, 

In  the  march  of  man, 
Open  for  it  place  and  scope : 

Bid  it  lead  the  van, 
Till  beneath  the  searching  skies 

Martyr-blood  be  found 
Purer  than  our  sacrifice 

Crying  from  the  ground; 

Till  a  flag  with  some  new  light 

Out  of  Freedom's  sky 
Kindles  through  the  gulfs  of  nigh 

Glory  yet  more  high. 
+  Let  its  glow  the  darkness  drown ! 

Give  our  banner  sway 
Till  its  joyful  stars  go  down 

In  undreamed-of  day ! 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  79 


BY      WILLIAM      WINTER. 

HE  apples  are  ripe  in  the  orchard; 
The  work  of  the  reaper  is  done ; 
And  the  golden  woodlands  redden 
In  the  blood  of  the  dying  sun. 

At  the  cottage-door  the  grandsire 
Sits,  pale,  in  his  easy  chair, 

While  the  gentle  wind  of  twilight 
Plays  with  his  silver  hair. 

A  woman  is  kneeling  beside  him: 
A  fair  young  head  is  prest, 

In  the  first  wild  passion  of  sorrow, 
Against  his  aged  breast; 

While  far  from  over  the  distance 
The  faltering  echoes  come 

Of  the  flying  blast  of  trumpet 
And  the  rattling  roll  of  drum. 


80  THE   FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

Then  the  grandsire  speaks,  in  a  whisper, 

:?  The  end  no  man  can  see ; 
But  we  give  him  to  his  country, 

And  we  give  our  prayers  to  Thee."  .  .  , 


The  violets  star  the  meadows, 

The  rosebuds  fringe  the  door, 
And  over  the  grassy  orchard 

The  pink- white  blossoms  pour. 

But  the  grandsire's  chair  is  empty; 

The  cottage  is  dark  and  still ; 
There's  a  nameless  grave  in  the  battle-field, 

And  a  new  one  under  the  hill ; 

And  a  pallid,  tearless  woman 

By  the  cold  hearth  sits,  alone; 
And  the  old  clock  in  the  corner 

Ticks  on  with  a  steady  drone. 


THE    FLOWEK    OF   LIBERTY.  81 


ian,  —  gtgljt  0r 


BY   GEORGE   P.    MORRIS. 


Freedom's  name  our  blades  we  draw; 
She  arms  us  for  the  fight  : 
*  For  country,  government,  and  law, 

For  Liberty  and  Right. 
The  Union  must  —  shall  be  preserved; 

Our  flag  still  o'er  us  fly  : 
That  cause  our  hearts  and  hands  has  nerved, 
And  we  will  do  or  die  ! 

Then  come,  ye  hardy  volunteers, 

Around  our  standard  throng; 
And  pledge  man's  hope  of  coming  years,  — 

The  Union,  —  right  or  wrong! 
The  Union  —  right  or  wrong  —  inspires 

The  burden  of  our  song: 
It  was  the  glory  of  our  sires,  — 

The  Union,  —  right  or  wrong  ! 


82  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

It  is  the  duty  of  us  all 

To  check  rebellion's  sway; 
To  rally  at  the  nation's  call,  — 

And  we  that  voice  obey. 
Then,  like  a  band  of  brothers,  go, 

A  hostile  league  to  break; 
To  rout  a  spoil-encumbered  foe, 

And  what  is  ours  retake. 

So  come,  ye  hardy  volunteers, 

Around  our  standard  throng, 
And  pledge  man's  hope  of  coming  years, 

The  Union,  —  right  or  wrong ! 
The  Union  —  right  or  wrong  —  inspires 

The  burden  of  our  song: 
It  was  the  glory  of  our  sires,  — 

The  Union,  —  right  or  wrong ! 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  83 


BY      B.      P.       SHILLABER. 

OT  most,  'mid  native  airs  outthrown, 
Of  war  or  peace,  our  pride  inflames 

For  that  dear  flag  whose  sway  we  own, 
That  our  devoted  homage  claims. 


Although  its  bright  and  airy  folds 

Float  from  the  mast  in  pictured  grace,    • 

Not  there  alone  its  glory  holds, 
In  loving  eyes,  its  highest  place. 

But  where  it  streams,  'neath  foreign  skies, 

Our  nation's  emblematic  sign, 
To  fainting  hearts  and  dimming  eyes 

Its 'stripes  and  stars  are  most  divine. 

The  failing  pulse  exults  once  more, 
Like  to  a  harp  but  newly  strung, 

If  to  the  airs  that  waft  us  o'er 
The  blazoned  gossamer  is  flung. 


84  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

'Tis  then,  forgetting  care  and  pain, 

A  momentary  joy  inures, 
And,  'neath  its  precious  folds  again 

Is  virtue  of  a  thousand  cures. 

Ah  !  priceless  is  its  value,  where 

The  heart  in  dark  desponding  gropes ; 

"When  failing  health  installs  despair 
Upon  the  graves  of  ruined  hopes : 

'Tis  then  a  wave  of  wafted  love 

From  those  most  precious  to  our  eyes, 

A  gleam  of  glory  from  above, 
A  gonfalon  of  Paradise. 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  85 


($wr  S^antr  atttr  its 


BY   CHARLES   T.    BROOKS. 


H|ROM  Dan  to  Beersheba  of  this  our  land 

Of  promise  have  I  passed,  from  strand  to  strand; 
Have  seen  the  moon  o'er  Campo  Bello  rise, 

And  watched  the  sun  in  far  South-western  skies, 

What  time  his  fiery  axle,  wheeling  slow, 

Stood  on  the  reddening  Gulf  of  Mexico. 

Slowly  I've  labored,  with  the  panting  steam, 

Up  Mississippi's  tortuous,  turbid  stream, 

Where,  at  each  bend,  each  wood-crowned  sweep,  behold 

Sea  after  sea  its  noble  bays  unfold ! 

There,  in  the  glimmering  dusk,  when  far-off  trees 

Like  spectres  stand,  the  cheated  vision  sees 

Strange  shows  of  fleets  and  fleet-girt  cities,  rife 

With  all  the  stir  of  busy  human  life. 

Mark,  as  by  magic,  Orient  Stamboul  rise  ! 

Its  bristling  masts,  a  forest,  meet  your  eyes, 

Where,  half  of  sight  and  half  of  fancy  born, 

Wind  the  bright  waters  of  the  Golden  Horn. 


Ob  THE   FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 

And  now,  'mid  hoary,  reverend  groves  we  glide, 
Where  Gunga's  thousand  islets  break  the  tide ; 
Where,  robed  with  pendant  moss,  the  aged  trees 
Stand  like  the  priests  of  Nature's  mysteries. 
Fades  each  fair  vision  with  a  puff  of  steam, 
As  onward  still  we  labor  up  the  stream. 
But,  lo !  where,  in  her  stateliness  and  pride, 
Looks  out  o'er  all  the  valley,  far  and  wide, 
That  young  queen  city,  "  throned  by  the  West," 
What  visions  of  the  future  fire  the  breast ! 
Eastward  she  looks;  and  seems,  with  noble  eye, 
Her  proud  Atlantic  sisters  to  defy, 
And  glow  in  the  great  race  and  rivalry. 
With  reverent  step  and  swelling  heart  I've  pressed 
The  boundless  prairie  of  the  teeming  West; 
And  where  the  northern  lakes,  a  mighty  chain, 
Stretch  their  bright  links  along  our  vast  domain, 
There  have  I  travelled, — there,  transported,  seen 
Blue  inland  oceans,  piny  oceans  green. 
And  where  New  England's  Alps  majestic  rise, 
I've  climbed  that  rocky  island  in  the  skies, 
Whence,  seen  afar,  our  noble  rivers  glance 
Like  threads  of  silver  in  the  broad  expanse ; 
And  where  earth  seems  a  living  map  —  no  more  — 
Dotted  with  towns,  with  forests  speckled  o'er. 
And  I  have  stood,  and  felt  a  nameless  thrill 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  87 

Of  reverence  and  rapture,  on  the  hill, 

"Where,  calmly  looking  down  on  the  fair  shore 

Of  Chesapeake  and  stately  Baltimore, 

In  emblematic,  marble  majesty, 

Stands  Washington,  "  in  the  clear,  upper  sky," 

And  breathes  his  benediction. 

Have  not  we 

A  goodly  heritage  from  sea  to  sea, 
From  lake  to  gulf  ?     What  noble  rivers  pour 
Their  inland  tribute  to  the  extended  shore ! 
O'er  rolling  upland  and  on  waving  plain, 
By  town  and  farm,  what  peace  and  plenty  reign ! 
And  must  the  day  come  when  fraternal  war 
Shall  rend  our  mighty  empire,  star  from  star? 
Or  (worse)  Corruption's  canker  eat  the  chain 
l$o  earthly  arm  had  power  to  snap  in  twain? 
Must  the  day  come,  when  over  freemen's  graves 
Their  shameless  sons  shall  walk,  the  slaves  of  slaves? 
When  the  proud  flag,  whose  field  of  starry  blue 
Tells  of  the  sky,  whence  our  young  Freedom  drew 
Her  life's  first  breath,  —  the  flag,  whose  stripes  of  red 
Tell  of  the  brave  who  at  her  summons  bled, — 
Shall  droop  inglorious,  or  dishonored  lie, 
A  taunt,  a  jest,  a  sign  of  infamy? 
Benignant  Heaven,  forbid  !  and  ye,  whose  dust 
Our  soil,  "  from  Maine  to  Georgia,"  holds  in  trust  1 


88  THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Forbid  it,  living  sons  of  those  dead  sires, 

Who  lit  on  Freedom's  heights  the  morn-watch-fires, 

"Whose  heart's  blood,  when  they  fell,  enriched  the  sod, 

And  scattered  seed  of  valor  far  abroad, 

That,  mouldering  in  full  many  a  furrow,  lies, 

Our  nobler  harvest,  ripening  for  the  skies ! 

Gone  is  the  day  when  our  young  eagle  heard 

The  cry  of  war,  and  in  his  eyrie  stirred ; 

When  Quincy  saw  the  blood-red  dawning  nigh, 

And  Warren,  at  the  call,  made  haste  to  die; 

When  Otis,  Adams,  fanned  the  kindling  flame, 

And  Hancock  pledged  a  patriot  merchant's  name ; 

Gone  is  the  day,  —  compatriots,  never  more 

May  dawn  its  like !  —  when,  ghastly-red  with  gore, 

Yon  altar-height  the  smoke  of  sacrifice 

Sent  up,  in  summer  sunlight,  to  the  skies. 

Gone  is  the  day;  and,  oh,  not  soon  may  men 

Beat  back  the  ploughshare  to  a  sword  again ! 

Yet  warfare,  brothers,  is  our  honored  lot, 

A  warfare  that,  while  life  lasts,  endeth  not. 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  89 


BY   CHARLES   K.    TUCKERMAN. 


]ST  pride  of  youth  and  high  behests, 

She  stands  magnificently  fair; 
For  honor  heaves  her  mountain  breasts, 
And  freedom  lifts  her  forest  hair: 
Like  one  she  looks,  who,  fresh  from  strife, 

Feels  on  his  brow  the  wreath  of  fame 
Press  fresh  ambition  into  life, 

Fresh  need  to  wear  a  deathless  name. 

In  face  a  child;  in  mien  a  queen; 

Unlineaged,  yet  of  high  degree,  — 
One  feels  a  crown  would  but  demean, 

And  rank  a  less  condition  be. 
Hers  is  the  diadem  of  respect, 

The  sceptre  of  the  innate  will ; 
Her  task  a  nation  to  erect, 

A  destiny  sublime  fulfil. 


90  THE   FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

As  roams  the  restless  eagle's  eye 

That  cleaves  an  azure  realm  new  found, 
Uncertain  whether  next  to  fly, 

Discerning  not  a  final  bound, 
She  gazes  on  her  fair  estate, 

Then  shakes  the  hands  of  either  sea, 
And,  through  the  elemental  great, 

Forefeels  the  greatness  yet  to  be. 

Exultingly  she  waves  her  stars, 

And  stands  transfigured  to  her  feet : 
No  more  red  War  her  glory  mars, 

And  dims  a  vision  else  complete. 
Transfigured  to  her  feet  she  stands,  — 

Those  feet  where  late  the  strangled  veins 
Ban  blackened  blood,  and  iron  bands 

Mocked  at  the  cursed  clank  of  chains ! 

Oh,  sad  sweet  feet!  oh,  pitiless  chains, 

Sad  relic  of  a  former  fate ! 
Freedom's  foul  fetters  —  slavery's  gains  — 

Dwarfing  the  else  transcendent  great. 
Long  did  ye  wear  them;  ah,  too  long! 

Proud  limbs  bowed  down  with  sin  and  shame, 
"Weak  where  thy  nature  made  thee  strong, 

Nameless  where  most  deserved  a  name. 


'THE  FLOWER  OF  LIBERTY.  91 

"And  who  shall  cast  them  off,  and  when?" 

Long1,  long  did  wisdom  seek  in  vain; 
And  weary  heart  and  voice  and  pen 

Asked  it,  and  asked  it  yet  again. 
But  they  shall  ask  it  never  more: 

His  answer  shook  the  land  and  sea; 
Peace  rode  upon  the  wings  of  War, 

And  God  hath  set  the  Nation  free. 

Aye  free,  great  land,  from  South  to  North, 

From  lake  to  gulf,  from  coast  to  coast! 
Thy  vaunted  liberty  henceforth 

Shall  be  no  more  an  empty  boast: 
Yet  guard  it  with  a  faithful  hand,  — 

Let  not  the  Spirit  mock  the  Form; 
Watch  well  the  winds  that  sweep  the  land, 

From  baffling  breeze  to  sudden  storm. 

Advance  thy  stately  standard  high, 

Till,  in  each  white  and  ruddy  line, 
The  far-oif  nations  can  descry 

A  holy  hope,  a  saving  sign. 
Advance  it  till  the  mingling  rays 

Of  new-born  stars  crowd  out  the  night, 
Making  the  azure  field  one  blaze 

Of  inextinguishable  light. 


92  THE   FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.' 


BY    CHARLES    A.    BARRY. 


FEW  steps  more;  just  down  by  the  bushes; 
And  then,  —  the  prayer  that's  'haunting  my 
lips,  — 


Will  they  mind  it  up  yonder,  when  my  soul  pushes 

Out  o'  this  suddenly  awful  eclipse? 
There  goes  the  surgeon :  no  need  to  hail  him,  — 

I'm  safe  for  a  dead  'mi  at  next  roll-call. 
This  is  a  job  that  would  certainly  fail  him: 

Give  me  a  drink,  Jack,  —  Lord  help  us  all ! 

Never  a  saint,  and  it's  no  use  whining: 

I've  got  to  travel,  —  I'll  do  my  best ; 
The  game's  played  out,  and  there's  no  divining 

What'll  become  o'  me  and  the  rest. 
I'm  wishing  the  parson  was  here  to  cheer  me, 

For  it's  little  o'  Christian  speech  I  know. 
IPs  coming  !  —  if  only  SHE  was  near  me, 

(God  bless  her!)  I'd  be  willing  to  go. 


t 


THE   FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.  93 

All  the  long  night,  lad,  I  lay  a  dreaming,  — 

A  dream  that  stuck  like  a  stab  in  my  brdin. 
I  told  the  boys  under  the  bayonets  gleaming, 

This  morning,  I'd  never  be  with  'em  again : 
They  called  me  a  muff,  and  swore  I  was  shamming,  — 

Quick  came  the  tears,  spite  of  all  I  could  do,  — 
Lord !  when  they  saw  me  led  out,  there  was  damning : 

I'll  bet  you  they  missed  me,  an'  pitied  me  too. 

Drop  me  down  in  this  bed  o'  sweet  clover. 

Thanks :  cut  the  rigging  off  o'  my  breast. 
Bide  a  bit,  comrade :  'twill  shortly  be  over,  — 

To-morrow  I'll  camp  in  the  land  o'  the  blest. 
Yon  goes  a  shell !  —  that's  jolly  good  humming  ! 

Over  the  hill  the  old  gal  breaks : 
Lift  me  a  little,  —  death  surely  is  coming  ! 

Give  us  your  fist,  —  see  how  my  hand  shakes  ! 

'Twas  only  a  faint !  —  not  much  in  a  hurry 

Above  there,  I  take  it,  for  fellows  like  me. 
Listen,  old  chap :  you'll  see  that  they  bury 

This  body  o'  mine  right  decently; 
And  comfort  the  old  folks,  —  worse  than  the  darting 

Pain  o'  this  bullet's  the  thought  o'  that  blow. 
God  help  'em !  and  keep  'em  through  the  long  parting ! 

I  shall  see  'em  on  t'other  side,  you  know! 


94  THE   FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

And  here's  the  traps  I  intrust  to  your  keeping: 

Her  letters "  (the  portrait  must  go,  Jack,  with  me)  ! 
Ah,  lad,  there'll  be  plenty  o'  wailing  and  weeping 

In  the  old  homestead  down  by  the  sea! 
But  tell  'em  I  died  with  th'  harness  all  on  me, 

In  th'  face  o'  th'  foe,  in  the  heat  o'  the  blast, 
With  never  a  stain  of  dishonor  upon  me : , 

You'll  tell  'em,  dear  Jack,  I  was  true  to  the  last. 

For  we  two  have  toted  like  brothers  together, 

Hard-tack  and  water,  this  many  a  day. 
Did  ever  I  show  the  least  bit  o'  white  feather? 

Bully  for  you !  —  I  thought  'twould  be  nay. 
Battle  and  march  and  civic  procession! 

Steady,  boys !  —  give  'em  a  touch  o'  the  steel ! 
Here,  at  the  end  of  a  soger's  profession, 

"Tis  the  Red,  White,  and  Blue,  come  woe  or  come  weal. 

It's  getting  dark,  and  I'm  off  for  certain ! 

Kiss  me,  dear  Jack,  for  I  cannot  see : 
I'm  called  this  time,  and  they'll  drop  the  curtain, 

As  sure  as  shooting,  betwixt  you  and  me. 
Ah,  well !  they'll  give  me  a  place,  I  reckon, 

Among  the  boys  that  have  gone  before! 
Good-by,  good-by,  old  fellow !  they  beckon  — 

The  angels  —  on  the  opposite  shore ! 


FRUITS    OF   FREEDOM 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  95 


Cj>*  ®ftr  glut  Coat. 

BY      BISHOP      BUKGESS      OF      MAINE. 

OU  asked  me,  little  one,  why  I  bowed, 

Though  never  I  passed  the  man  before? 
Because  my  heart  was  full  and  proud 
When  I  saw  the  old  blue  coat  he  wore : 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

I  know  not,  I,  what  weapon  he  chose, 

What  chief  he  followed,  what  badge  he  bore; 
Enough  that,  in  the  front  of  foes, 

His  country's  blue  great-coat  he  wore : 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

Perhaps  he  was  born  in  a  forest-hut; 

Perhaps  he  had  danced  on  a  palace-floor; 
To  want  or  wealth  my  eyes  were  shut, 
I  only  marked  the  coat  he  wore : 

The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 


96  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 

It  mattered  not  much  if  he  drew  his  line 

From  Shem  or  Ham  in  the  clays  of  yore ; 
For  surely  he  was  a  brother  of  mine, 
Who  for  my  sake  the  war-coat  wore : 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

He  might  have  no  skill  to  read  or  write, 

Or  he  might  be  rich  in  learned  lore ; 
But  I  knew  he  could  make  his  mark  in  fight: 
And  nobler  gown  no  scholar  wore 

Than  the  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

It  may  be  he  could  plunder  and  prowl, 

And  perhaps,  in  his  mood,  he  scoffed  and  swore; 
But  I  would  not  guess  a  spot  so  foul 
On  the  honored  coat  he  bravely  wore : 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

He  had  worn  it  long,  and  borne  it  far; 

And  perhaps,  on  the  red  Virginian  shore, 
From  midnight  chill  till  the  morning  star, 
That  warm  great-coat  the  sentry  wore : 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 


THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.  97 

* 

When  hardy  Butler  reined  his  steed 

Through  the  streets  of  proud,  proud  Baltimore, 
Perhaps  behind  him,  at  his  need, 

Marched  he  who  yonder  blue  coat  wore : 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

Perhaps  it  was  seen  in  Burnside's  ranks, 

When  Rappahannock  ran  dark  with  gore ; 
Perhaps  on  the  mountain-side  with  Banks, 
In  the  burning  sun,  no  more  he  wore 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

Perhaps  in  the  swamps  'twas  a  bed  for  his  form, 

From  the  seven  days'  battling  and  marching  sore; 
Or  with  Kearney  and  Pope,  'mid  the  steely  storm,, 
As  the  night  closed  in,  that  coat  he  wore: 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

Or  when  right  over  him  Jackson  dashed, 

That  collar  or  cape  some  bullet  tore; 
Or  when  far  ahead  Antietam  flashed. 

He  flung  to  the  ground  the  coat  that  he  wore: 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

7 


98  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 

Or  stood  at  Gettysburg,  where  the  graves 

Rang  deep  to  Howard's  cannon  roar; 
Or  saw  with  Grant  the  unchained  waves, 
Where  conquering  hosts  the  blue  coat  wore: 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

That  garb  of  honor  tells  enough, 

Though  I  its  story  guess  no  more; 
The  heart  it  covers  is  made  of  such  stuff, 

That  the  coat  is  mail  which  that  soldier  wore : 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

He  may  hang  it  up  when  the  peace  shall  come, 
And  the  moths  may  find  it  behind  the  door; 
But  his  children  will  point,  when  they  hear  a  dram, 
To  the  proud  old  coat  their  father  wore : 
The  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
The  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 

And  so,  my  child,  will  you  and  I, 

For  whose  fair  home  their  blood  they  pour, 
Still  bow  the  head,  as  one  goes  by 

Who  wears  the  coat  that  soldier  wore: 
That  blue  great-coat,  the  sky-blue  coat, 
Th.e  old  blue  coat  the  soldier  wore. 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 


fmptg 


BY   DAVID   BARKER. 


Inscribed  to  General  Howard,  of  Maine,  who  lost  his  right  arm  in  defence  of  his 

country. 


Y  the  moon's  pale  light,  to  a  gazing  throng 
Let  me  tell  one  tale,  let  me  sing  one  song: 
"Tis  a  tale  devoid  of  an  aim  or  plan; 
"Tis  a  simple  song  of  a  one-arm  man. 

Till  this  very  hour,  I  could  ne'er  believe 

"What  a  tell-tale  thing  is  an  empty  sleeve ; 

What  a  wierd,  queer  thing  is  an  empty  sleeve. 

It  tells,  in  a  silent  tone,  to  all 
Of  a  country's  need  and  a  country's  call; 
Of  a  kiss  and  a  tear  for  a  child  and  wife, 
And  a  hurried  march  for  a  nation's  life. 

Till  this  very  hour,  who  could  e'er  believe 
"What  a  tell-tale  thing  is  an  empty  sleeve; 
"What  a  wierd,  queer  thing  is  an  empty  sleeve? 


100  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

It  tells  of  a  battle-field  of  gore, 
Of  the  sabre's  clash,  of  the  cannon's  roar; 
Of  the  deadly  charge,  of  the  bugle's  note, 
Of  a  gurgling  sound  in  a  foemaii's  throat; 
Of  the  whizzing  grape,  of  the  fiery  shell, 
Of  a  scene  which  mimics  the  scenes  of  hell. 
Till  this  very  hour,  would  you  e'er  believe 
What  a  tell-tale  thing  is  an  empty  sleeve; 
What  a  wierd,  queer  thing  is  an  empty  sleeve? 

Though  it  points  to  a  myriad  wounds  and  scars, 
Yet  it  tells  that  a  flag  with  the  stripes  and  stars 
In  God's  own  chosen  time  will  take 
Each  place  of  the  rag  with  the  rattlesnake : 
And  it  points  to  a  time  when  that- flag  shall  wave 
O'er  a  land  where  there  breathes  no  cowering  slave. 
To  the  top  of  the  skies  let  us  all  then  heave 
One  proud  huzza  for  the  empty  sleeve; 
For  the  one-arm  man,  and  the  empty  sleeve. 


NOTE. — The  foregoing  was  written  one  moonlight  evening  while  General 
Howard  was  addressing  a  large  throng  from  the  steps  of  the  Bangor  House,  and 
his  empty  sleeve  was  every  nov?  and  then  floating  on  the  breeze.  —  D.  B. 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  101 


(fur 


BY      ORPHEUS      C.      KERR. 


LAG  of  my  country!    Standard  of  the  free 
In  every  land  where  dwelleth  Liberty! 
Thou  fairest  page  the  eye  of  Light  can  find, 
Turned  by  the  quivering  fingers  of  the  wind ; 
Charter  of  Hope  by  God  to  mortals  given, 
Bright  with  the  planetary  pomp  of  heaven; 
Still  to  the  patriot  a  recorded  prayer, 
Lingering  in  sweet  suspense  upon  the  air,  — 
Let  me  within  thy  broad  protection  stand, 
And  read  thine  honors  for  my  native  land. 

As  from  the  shattered  temple  of  the  storm 
Springs  the  grand  arch  of  light  in  fairest  form, 
Splits  the  black  dome  'mid  distant  thunder's  din, 
And,  through  the  shadows,  lets  the  sunshine  in; 
So  thou,  my  country's  banner,  didst  arise 
From  a  dead  storm  whose  battles  shook  the  skies,  — 
Rose,  like  the  coming  day's  memorial  shield, 
From  a  red  sunset's  torn  and  bleeding  field, 


102  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Dipped  in  the  starry  mine,  whose  clusters  bright, 
Drawn  to  a  Union,  beamed  the  perfect  light. 

Born  of  the  battle,  nursling  of  the  wind, 

Symbol  of  strength  unfurled  for  all  mankind, 

Through  the  dark  hour  that  brings  our  brothers'  shame, 

Still  from  our  altars  rise,  a  beacon  flame, 

Pride  of  the  air !     Thou  solitary  spar 

Cast  to  the  sea,  whose  waves  the  whirlwinds  are, 

Scarce  the  faint  wretch  thy  signal  stars  descries 

When  a  new  life  is  kindled  in  his  eyes : 

Served  with  a  might  dividing  fates  to  dare, 

Boldly  he  cleaves  the  billows  of  despair, 

Clasps  thee  in  triumph  to  his  heaving  breast, 

And  drifts  securely  to  a  haven  rest. 

Proudest  of  flags  that  mount  the  giddy  mast, 
Coy  to  the  breeze,  defiant  to  the  blast, 
Blazoned  aloft  in  every  zone  and  clime, 
Sheath  for  the  sword,  or  badge  for  harvest  time ; 
Spread  at  command  of  cannon's  deadly  throat ; 
Fluttering  in  play  to  merman's  liquid  note,  — 
Whether  thy  hues  in  polar  vapors  freeze, 
Or  blend  with  sunset  on  the  Southern  seas, 
Still  thy  broad  folds  shake  deathless  honors  down 
On  the  free  head  too  proud  to  wear  a  crown ; 


THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.  103 

Still  to  God's  image,  be  he  bond  or  free, 
Thou  art  a  birthright  of  Equality ! 

And  shall  this  sacred  leaf  in  Glory's  tome, 
Plucked  from  the  volume  storying  ^Nature's  dome, 
And  a  great  Nation's  grand  appeal  to  God 
For  the  blest  power  to  break  a  tyrant's  rod, 
Be  by  the  hands  of  its  own  bearers  riven,  — 
Torn  and  despoiled  the  heraldry  of  heaven? 
At  the  fell  thought,  what  darkness  falls  around  ! 
See  the  red  streams  flow  gurgling  from  the  ground  ! 
Blood  of  our  fathers,  hallowing  every  spot, 
Are  the  grand  lives  poured  out  in  thee  forgot? 
Shades  of  the  mighty !  can  thy  dead  eyes  see 
Brother  to  brother  curse  thy  legacy? 

Hark !  from  the  North  what  sullen  murmurs  come ! 
And  from  the  South  wells  up  a  mournful  hum; 
Soft  through  the  East  the  muffled  drums  resound, 
And  in  the  West  a  dead  command  goes  round. 
Hark  to  the  tramp  of  ghostly  armies  four, 
Through  the  long  grass  bedewed  with  heroes'  gore ! 
From  the  red  hill  where  Warren's  soldiers  bled, 
From  the  dark  fens  where  slumber  Marion's  dead, 
From  the  free  plains  where  Scott's  battalions  fell, 
From  the  dread  field  whose  tale  let  Britons  tell,  — 


104  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 

Onward  they  come,  in  all  the  dead  array 
Of  a  slain  army  on  the  Judgment-day. 

"Well  for  the  land  whose  maddened  sons  would  dare 

Trample  in  dust  the  signet  of  the  air; 

"Well  for  the  land  whose  impious  purpose  known 

Robs  of  its  weight  the  grim  funereal  stone,  — 

That  as  the  hosts,  from  beds  of  ages  called, 

Turn  their  pale  faces  to  the  skies  appalled, 

Full  from  the  nation's  Capitolic  dome 

Beam  the  Republic's  stars  amid  the  gloom : 

Still  they  all  shine,  and  still  the  stripes  defend,  — 

These  for  the  foe,  those  for  the  trusty  friend. 

As  the  dead  army  mark  the  starry  shrine, 
Sounds  of  thanksgiving  thrill  along  the  line ;   . 
Swiftly  the  arms  to  set  position  come, 

And  the  salute  is  answered  by  the  drum; 

* 

Then,  as  the  templed  shadows  fall  away, 
Waves  the  old  Flag  in  all  the  glow  of  day. 
Gone  are  the  hosts,  no  more  to  trouble  men, 
Till  the  last  trumpet  sounds  the  march  again. 

Flag  of  the  Fallen!  Standard  of  the  Dead  ! 
Thee  let  me  follow  with  unwavering  tread: 
Free  from  the  touch  of  slave  and  tyrant  fly; 


THE  FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY.  105 

And,  when  thou  fadest,  let  a  nation  die ! 
Bond  of  the  Freeman!  sacred  with  the  blood 
Shed  by  brave  men  for  brave  men's  noblest  good, 
Say  to  the  eye  that  looks  to  God  and  thee 
From  a  scorned  trust,  or  fell  captivity,  — 
Stripes  for  the  traitor,  foe,  and  honor's  ban; 
Heaven  for  the  patriot  and  the  honest  man! 


106  THE   FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 


atttr 


BY      OLIVER      WENDELL      HOLMES. 

LAG  of  the  heroes  who  left  us  their  glory, 
Borne  through  their  battle-fields'  thunder  and 

flame, 

Blazoned  in  song,  and  illumined  in  story, 
Wave  o'er  us  ah1  who  inherit  their  fame  ! 
Up  with  our  banner  bright, 
Sprinkled  with  starry  light  ; 
Spread  its  fair  emblems  from  mountain  to  shore: 
While,  through  the  sounding  sky, 
Loud  rings  the  ^Nation's  cry,  — 
Union  and  Liberty!  one  evermore! 

Light  of  our  firmament,  guide  of  our  Nation, 

Pride  of  her  children,  and  honored  afar, 
Let  the  wide  beams  of  thy  full  constellation 

Scatter  each  cloud  that  would  darken  a  star! 
Up  with  our  banner  bright,  &c. 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  107 

Empire  misceptred!  what  foe  shall  assail  thee, 

Bearing  the  standard  of  Liberty's  van? 
Think  not  the  God  of  thy  fathers  shall  fail  thee, 

Striving  with  men  for  the  birthright  of  man. 
Up  with  our  banner  bright,  &c. 

Yet  if,  by  madness  and  treachery  blighted, 

Dawns  the  dark  hour  when  the  sword  thou  must  draw, 

Then,  with  the  arms  to  thy  millions  united, 
Smite  the  bold  traitors  to  Freedom  and  Law ! 
Up  with  our  banner  bright,  &c. 

Lord  of  the  Universe!  shield  us  and  guide  us, 

Trusting  thee  always  through  shadow  and  sun: 
Thou  hast  united  us,  —  who  shall  divide  us? 
Keep  us,  oh  keep  us,  the  Many  in  One! 

Up  with  our  banner  bright, 

Sprinkled  with  starry  light; 
Spread  its  fair  emblems  from  mountain  to  shore : 

While,  through  the  sounding  sky, 

Loud  rings  the  ^Nation's  cry,  — 
Union  and  Liberty  !  one  evermore  I 


108  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 


BY   HARRIET   M°EWEN   KIMBAUO. 


EAR  Land  !  we  crown  thee  with  our  praise, 

In  patriot  pride  we  name  thee; 
"With  loyal  lips  we  sing  thy  lays ; 

With  swelling  hearts  we  claim  thee. 
Yet  lofty  speech  and  stirring  song 

Alike  are  unavailing, 
"WTiile  hands  of  treachery  and  wrong 

Thy  glory  are  assailing. 

But  loyal  steel  defends  thy  fame, 

And  writes,  in  crimson  letters, 
A  pledge  that  turns  to  endless  shame 

The  threat  that  Treason  utters. 
And,  from  the  loyal  cannon's  mouth, 

The  lightning-flash  and  thunder 
Repeat  to  traitors,  North  and  South, 

"  The  bond  ye  cannot  sunder!  " 


i 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  109 

"We  mourn  thy  blood-stains,  Father-land  ! 

But  War's  wild  clash  is  better 
Than  Peace,  that  yields  a  craven  hand 

To  Treason's  iron  fetter; 
Till  from  ]STew  England's  crystal  hills 

To  Georgia's  bloom  of  cotton, 
Proud  Victory's  breath  our  banner  fills, 

The  white  flag  be  forgotten ! 


110  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 


Jfkg 


BY  HENRY  MOEFORD. 


KINX)W  not  how  the  absence  fell 

Of  that  my  eyes  so  sought  with  longing, 
The  dear  old  flag  we  loved  so  well 
When  traitor  hands  were  wronging; 


For  still,  thank  God  !  it  droops  and  waves 
Where'er  the  winds  of  commerce  woo  it, 

Or  deed  of  despot,  scourging  slaves, 
Demands  that  we  undo  it. 

But  weeks,  for  me,  since  Consul's  staff" 

Had  shown  the  striped  and  starry  streamer, 

Or  it  had  blown  from  frigate's  gaff, 
Or  peak  of  sailing  steamer. 

The  meteor  flag  of  Britain  here ; 

And  there  an  ensign  broader,  fuller, 
And  bruiting  victories  quite  as  dear,  — 

The  Emperor's  tricolor. 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  Ill 

It  seemed  to  me,  though  dim  and  far, 
And  scarce  embodied  forth  in  thinking, 

My  own  dear  land,  with  stripe  and  star, 
To  nothingness  was  sinking; 

That  I  should  know  my  home  no  more, 

However  sought,  through  toils  and  dangers, 

But,  weary,  tread  some  foreign  shore, 
And  live  and  die  'mid  strangers. 


And  then  one  morn  I  wound  my  way 
Down  Calton  Hill  of  Edinboro', 

With  Holyrood  my  goal  to-day, 
And  Stirling  Carse  to-morrow; 

With  Arthur's  Seat  that  skyward  laughed, 
And  the  grim  Castle  piled  defiant; 

Till  one  full  cup  of  eld  I  quafled, 
That  made  my  dull  veins  riant. 

:?  Who  would  not  stay  from  native  land," 
I  said,  "for  this,  so  famed  in  story?  — 

These  memories  of  the  Iron  Hand, 
And  gleams  of  kingly  glory?" 


112  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

Who  would  not  ?     Pause  !  —  for,  up  a  spire, 
Against  the  blue  void  sheer  and  utter, 

Azure  and  white  and  ruddy  fire, 
I  saw  a  banner  flutter. 


It  was  my  own,  —  OUT  own !     O  Heaven ! 

How  the  quick  throb  that  love  convulses, 
"When  some  dear  recognition's  given, 

Went  bounding  through  my  pulses! 

How  all  my  native  land  at  once 

Sprang  back  to  being  in  the  shimmer, 

With  those  whose  absence  had  for  months 
Made  every  daylight  dimmer! 

The  gray  old  driver  on  his  box 

Saw  the  quick  glance,  the  tear-drop  starting: 
A  smile,  whose  kin  the  heart  unlocks, 

His  sun-browned  lips  was  parting. 

"  Hech,  mon !  "  he  said,  "  I  ken  the  sight 
That  maks  the  saft'nin'  mood  come  o'er  ye ! 

'Tis  a  bonnie  flag !  —  I've  seen  the  light 
In  other  eyes  before  ye. 


THE   FLOWEK   OF   LIBERTY.  113 

:?  Ye'r  far  frae  hame,  and  weel  may  spare 
Ane  drap  to  wat  yer  country's  honor; 

For  sad's  the  load  —  ay,  sad  and  sair  — 
Rebellion  laid  upon  her. 

"  Ay,  I  could  a'most  greet  mysel' 
To  see  a  thing  so  braw  and  bonnie, 

And  think  what  faes  hae  wished  it  ill, 
Yet  floatin'  high  as  ony !  " 

I  reached  and  grasped  the  driver's  hand, 
I  choked  with  grateful,  mournful  feeling: 

The  home-flag  in  a  foreign  land 
Had  brought  a  new  revealing,  — 

How  round  a  simple  bunting-strip, 
In  cost  a  song,  in  weight  a  feather, 

A  mere  mouchoir  for  lady's  lip, 
A  nation's  pride  can  gather. 

A  father's  fondness  for  his  child, 

A  lover's  tender,  pleading  passion, 
A  patriot's  flame,  —  all  form  one  wild 

Unreasoning  adoration. 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

"  God  bless  the  dear  old  bannered  fold  ! 

God  keep  the  hosts  who  own  and  guard  it! 
Till  plucked  its  hues,  when  time  is  old, 

By  the  same  Hand  that  starred  it !  " 

So  shouted  I  down  Calton  Hill, 

And  the  old  Gael's  pleased  murmur  follows ; 
And  such  the  shout  I'll  echo  still 

Upon  the  soil  it  hallows. 

To  float  it,  Western  winds  blow  free; 

And  blue  bend  Western  skies  above  it : 
But  it  needs  the  Old  Flag  Over-sea 

To  know  how  much  we  love  it ! 


AlEDCHEANOCEOCHAN,  HIGHLANDS  OF   SCOTLAND, 

August  8,  1865. 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  115 


for 


BY       K  D  W  A  R  D       P.       N  O  W  E  L  L. 


HOUT,  shout  the  tidings  o'er 
The  land,  from  shore  to  shore, 

All  shall  be  free! 
The  Knights  of  Bondage  bleed; 
Rebellion's  ranks  recede; 
Our  arms  triumphant  lead 
To  victory! 

All  hail  the  glorious  sight! 
Columbia's  martial  might 

Traitors  astounds! 
Fair  Freedom's  valiant  host 
Has  silenced  Slavery's  boast 
Along  Secessia's  coast, 

And  through  her  bounds ! 


116  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

God  grant  we  soon  may  see 
Enduring  unity, 

And  sheathe  the  sword: 
Our  country's  foemen  felled, 
Secession's  spirit  quelled, 
The  smoke  of  strife  dispelled, 

And  Peace  restored ! 


Then  Union's  banner  bright 
Shall  herald  Freedom's  light 

On  shore  and  sea; 
And  Heaven's  benignant  rays 
Illume  the  Nation's  days,  — 
Our  hearts  ascribing  praise, 

Great  God  !  to  thee. 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY.  117 


BY    J.    UOIXIN   M.    SQUIRE. 


Ji  FLAG,  still  proudly  dost  thon  wave 
Above  the  free,  above  the  brave! 
And  on  thy  folds,  that  kiss  the  air, 
Behold  !  morn's  opal  streaks  are  there, 
Blent  with  the  hues  that  warm  the  skies 
When  pallid  day  from  evening  flies, 
Ere  the  red  sun  removes  his  crest 
That  floods  with  fire  the  burnished  West. 

The  night  comes  on,  yet  thou  dost  share 
The  unclouded  beauty  radiant  there ; 
For  on  thy  blue  is  star  on  star, 
Thrice  burnished  in  the  flame  of  War, 
As  bright  as  those  that  glitter  where 
The  night  her  mantle  trails  in  air; 
And  of  thy  shining  throng  not  one 
Has  lost  its  light,  —  not  one  is  gone. 


118  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

Oh,  proudly  float  in  every  breeze 
That  sweeps  the  land  or  curls  the  seas! 
The  world,  how  haughty,  fierce,  or  cold, 
Thy  heavenly  hues  in  every  fold 
"Will  recognize,  and  bow  to  thee, 
Untarnished  emblem  of  the  free, 
Red  with  the  blood  thy  patriots  gave 
To  strike  the  shackles  from  the  slave. 


longer  shall  thy  ruddy  bars 
Be  likened  to  the  bleeding  scars 
The  bondmen  wore,  before  the  sea 
Of  strife  rose  up  and  set  them  free  : 
But  in  thy  spaces,  white  and  red, 
The  world  shall  recognize,  instead, 
And  chant  the  song,  of  glorious  note, 
In  strife  conceived,  in  Yictory  wrote. 


THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 


119 


% 


BY      MKS.      ANN       S.      STEPHENS. 


H,  say  not  that  war-times   were   brighter   than 

these, 
"When  banners  are  torn  from  the  warriors  that 

bore  them! 
Oh,  say  not  the  ocean,  the  storm,  and  the  breeze 

Are  proudest  and  grandest  when  war  thunders  o'er 

them! 

For  the  battle's  hot  light  grows  pale  to  the  sight 
When  the  pen  wields  its  power,  or  thought  feels  its  might. 
IsTow  mind  rules  triumphant  where  slaughter  was  red, 
And  the  glory  of  peace  crowns  our  Bald  Eagle's  head. 

May  the  blessings  of  concord  in  harmony  rise  ; 

Let  the  sword  keep  its  sheath  and   the  cannon  its 

thunder  ; 
Let  brotherhood  reign  from  the  earth  to  the  skies, 

And  love  link  the  States  that  war  could  not  sunder. 


120  THE    FLOWER    OF   LIBERTY. 

"Where  mermaids  still  weep  and  pearls  lie  asleep, 
The  flag1  of  disunion  no  longer  shall  sweep ; 
OUR  flag  waves  triumphant  from  ocean  to  shore, 
And  its  stars  light  the  nests  of  our  eagles  once  more. 

As  a  I^iobe,  folding  deep  grief  to  her  breast, 

The  nation  has  mourned  o'er  the  children's  dissension : 
She  called  upon  Heaven,  like  a  mother  distressed, 

And  the  great  God  of  Battle  gave  his  intervention. 
We  feel  with  a  start  the  quick  pulse  of  her  heart, 
And  she  is  no  more  from  her  children  apart. 
For  peace  reigns  triumphant,  our  people  are  one, 
And  our  Bald  Eagle  soars  with  his  eyes  to  the  sun. 

The  blood  that  is  kindred  throbs  kindly  once  more : 
The  glow  of  our  joy  fills  the  earth  and  the  ocean; 
It  leaps  on  the  waves,  and  it  sings  on  the  shore, 

Till  the  globe,  to  its  poles,  feels  the  holy  commotion. 
Let  us  join  in  our  might  to  be  earnest  for  light; 
Where  the  Saxon  blood  burns,  let  it  ever  be  right: 
For  our  eaglets  are  nested  in  glory  and  love, 
While  peace  reigns  triumphant,  and  God  reigns  above. 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  121 


eli 


BY   THEODORE   TILTQN. 


Suggested  by  President  Lincoln's  First  Call  for  Volunteers. 

JOLL  !  Koland,  toll  ! 

In  old  St.  Bavon's  tower, 
At  midnight  hour, 
The  great  bell  Roland  spoke, 
And  all  who  slept  in  Ghent  awoke. 
What  meant  the  thunder-stroke? 
Why  trembled  wife  and  maid  ? 
Why  caught  each  man  his  blade? 
Why  echoed  every  street 
With  tramp  of  thronging  feet, 
All  flying  to  the  city's  wall  ? 
It  was  the  warning  call 
That  Freedom  stood  in  peril  of  a  foe  ! 
And  even  timid  hearts  grew  bold 
Whenever  Roland  tolled, 
And  every  hand  a  sword  could  hold, 

*  The  famous  bell  Roland,  of  Ghent,  was  an  object  of  great  affection  to  the 
people,  because  it  rang  to  arouse  them  when  liberty  was  in  danger. 


122  THE    FLOWER    OF    LIBERTY. 

.       And  every  arm  could  bend  a  bow ! 
So  acted  men 
Like  patriots  then,  — 
Three  hundred  years  ago! 

Toll !  Eoland,  toll ! 
Bell  never  yet  was  hung, 
Between  whose  lips  there  swung 
So  grand  a  tongue ! 

If  men  be  patriots  still, 

At  thy  first  sound 

True  hearts  will  bound, 

Great  souls  will  thrill  ! 
Then  toll,  and  strike  the  test 
Through  each  man's  breast, 
And  let  him  stand  confest ! 

Toll !  Koland,  toll ! 
Not  now  in  old  St.  Bavon's  tower, 
Not  now  at  midnight  hour, 
Not  now  from  River  Scheldt  to  Zuyder  Zee, 
But  here,  —  this  side  the  sea,  — 
Toll  here,  in  broad,  bright  day! 
For  not  by  night  awaits 
A  foe  without  the  gates, 
But  perjured  friends  within  betray, 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  123 

Who  do  the  deed  at  noon  ! 

Toll !  Koland,  toll ! 

Thy  sound  is  not  too  soon  ! 
To  arms !     Ring  out  the  Leader's  call ! 

Re-echo  it  from  East  to  West, 

Till  every  hero's  breast 

Shall  swell  beneath  a  plume  and  crest ! 

Toll !  Roland,  toll ! 
Till  cottager,  from  cottage-wall, 
Snatch  pouch  and  powder-horn  and  gun! 
The  sire  bequeathed  them  to  the  son, 
When  only  half  their  work  was  done! 

Toll !  Roland,  toll ! 
Till  swords  from  scabbards  leap! 

Toll!  Roland,  toll! 
What  tears  can  widows  weep 
Less  bitter  than  when  brave  men  fall  ? 

Toll !  Roland,  toll ! 
In  shadowed  hut  and  hall 
Shall  lie  the  soldier's  pall, 
And  hearts  shall  break  while  graves  are  filled. 

Amen !  so  God  hath  willed  ! 

And  may  his  grace  anoint  us  all ! 

Toll !  Roland,  toll ! 
The  Dragon  on  thy  tower 
Stands  sentry  to  this  hour, 


124  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

And  Freedom  yet  is  safe  in  Ghent! 

And  merrier  bells  now  ring, 
And,  in  the  land's  serene  content, 

Men  shont,  "  God  save  the  King !  " 
Until  the  skies  are  rent ! 

So  let  it  be ! 

A  Kingly  King  is  he 

Who  keeps  his  people  free  ! 

Toll !  Eoland,  toll ! 
Ring  out  across  the  sea  ! 
"No  longer  They  but  We 
Have  now  such  need  of  thee  ! 

Toll !  Roland,  toll ! 
CNor  ever  let  thy  throat 
Keep  dumb  its  warning  note 
Till  Freedom's  perils  be  outbraved ! 

Toll !  Roland,  toll ! 
Till  Freedom's  flag,  wherever  waved, 
Shall  shadow  not  a  man  enslaved  ! 

Toll !  Roland,  toll ! 
From  Northern  lake  to  Southern  strand  ! 

Toll !  Roland,  toll ! 
Till  friend  and  foe,  at  thy  command, 
Shall  clasp  again  each  other's  hand, 
And  shout,  one-voiced,  "  God  save  the  land !  " 
And  love  the  land  that  God  hath  saved  ! 

Toll !  Roland,  toll ! 


THE    FLOWER    OP    LIBERTY.  125 


Spirit  0f  %  Winian  S0Jbwrs. 

BY  MILES  O'REHXY. 

E  merciful  to  the  South  ! 

Not  with  the  empty  word  in  your  mouth; 

But  merciful  be  — let  your  actions  tell  — 
To  the  men  who  were  beaten,  but  fought  so  well: 

Be  merciful  to  the  South ! 
• 

Be  merciful,  —  and  be  more,  — 
Now  that  the  red  days  of  battle  are  o'er; 
For,  when  the  first  cause  of  the  quarrel  is  sought, 
No  clean  hands  by  us  into  court  are  brought: 

Be  merciful  to  the  South  ! 

Be  merciful  to  the  South ! 
Gentle  in  deed  and  in  word  of  mouth; 
For  no  craven  brand  on  the  forehead  shines 
Of  the  men  who  met  us  in  volleying  lines, 

And  fought  for  the  flag  of  the  South. 


126  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

We  are  all  here  at  last, 
The  terrible  days  of  our  struggle  past; 
And  again  the  old  banner  floats  elate 
O'er  the  capitol  dome  of  each  Sister  State, 

In  the  3STorth,  East,  "West,  and  South ! 

Be  merciful  to  the  South  ! 
For  slaughter  and  ruin  and  hunger  and  drouth 
They  have  suifered  who  made  such  a  gallant  fight 
For  a  cause  that  was  wrong,  but  they  thought  it  was 
right: 

Be  merciful  to  the  South  ! 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  127 


BY      PHOEBE      CART. 


LA]STD,  of  every  land  the  best ! 

O  land,  whose  glory  shall  increase ! 
Now  in  your  whitest  raiment  dressed 

For  the  great  festival  of  peace,  — 


Take  from  your  flag  its  fold  of  gloom, 
And  let  it  float  undimmed  above, 

Till  over  all  your  vales  shall  bloom 
The  sacred  colors  that  we  love. 

On  mountain  high,  and  hill-top  low, 
Set  Freedom's  beacon-fires  to  burn, 

Until  the  midnight  sky  shall  show 
A  redder  pathway  than  the  morn. 

Welcome,  with  shouts  of  joy  and  pride, 
Your  veterans  from  the  war-path's  track: 

You  gave  your  boys,  untrained,  untried; 
You  bring  them  men  and  heroes  back! 


128  THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 

And  shed  no  tear,  though  think  you  must 
"With  sorrow  of  your  martyred  band,  — 

Not  even  for  him  whose  hallowed  dust 
Has  made  our  prairies  holy  land. 

Though,  by  the  places  where  they  fell, 
The  places  that  are  sacred  ground, 

Death,  like  a  sullen  sentinel, 
Paces  his  everlasting  round; 

Yet,  when  they  set  their  country  free, 
And  gave  her  traitors  fitting  doom, 

They  left  their  last  great  enemy 
Baffled  beside  an  empty  tomb. 

Not  there,  but  risen,  redeemed,  they  go, 
Where  all  the  paths  are  sweet  with  flowers : 

.They  fought  to  give  us  peace;  and,  lo! 
They  gained  a  better  peace  than  ours. 

JULY  4, 1865. 


^ 


PUT 


THE    FLOWER   OF    LIBERTY.  129 


Winwn. 


BY    ALBERT    LAIGHTON. 


ARK  and  sullen  o'er  the  Nation  lowers 
Fell  Disunion,  like  a  tempest  cloud: 
Shall  its  lightnings  rend  this  land  of  ours  ? 
Shall  it  be  the  Country's  sable  shroud? 


Shall  a  band  of  traitors  rashly  sunder 
Ties  so  firmly  woven  by  the  free? 

No !  the  echo  rolls,  in  tones  of  thunder, 
From  the  mountain  passes  to  the  sea. 

By  the  many  hopes  the  living  cherish, 
By  our  faith  in  Freedom's  sacred  trust, 

By  the  sainted  names  that  cannot  perish, 
By  the  soil  made  dear  by  patriot  dust, 

By  the  noble  deeds  enshrined  in  story, 
By  the  voices  speaking  from  the  Past, 

By  our  priceless  heritage  of , glory,  — 
We'll  defend  the  Union  to  the  last! 

9 


130 


THE   FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY. 


fintoln. 


BY      MRS.      JULIA      WARD      HOWE. 

his  blood-stained  pillow 
With  a  victor's  palm ; 
Life's  receding  billow 
Leaves  eternal  calm. 

At  the  feet  Almighty 

Lay  this  gift  sincere 
Of  a  purpose  weighty, 

And  a  record  clear. 

With  deliverance  freighted 
Was  this  passive  hand; 

And  this  heart,  high-fated, 
Would  with  love  command. 


Let  him  rest  serenely 

In  a  Nation's  care, 
Where  her  waters  queenly 

Make  the  West  most  fair. 


THE    FLOWER   OF   LIBERTY.  131 

In  the  greenest  meadow 

That  the  prairies  show, 
Let  his  marble's  shadow 

Give  all  men  to  know,  — 

"  Our  first  hero,  living, 

Made  his  country  free; 
Heed  the  second's  giving,  — 

Death  for  Liberty." 


Cambridge:  Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  John  Wilson  <fc  Sons. 


JL  ins  UOUA  is  wu  uii  uic  IUM  u<tic 


1 

MAY  12 


0  8  1989 


Form  L9-32m-8,'57(.C8680s4)444 


3  115800797  1 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  343  667    o 


